


not quite exactly in the service of the crown

by beili



Series: jack of spades [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Romance, Smut, non-graphic references to violence, spies in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beili/pseuds/beili
Summary: This is a collection of shorts set in Jack of Spades 'verse, previously posted on tumblr. Each chapter is a standalone, but it would make more sense to read themain storyfirst.Snippets are posted in order of publication and not choronologically within the 'verse continuity. Exact ratings and specific content warnings, if applicable, are given at the beginning of each chapter.





	1. In which Kolya gets a job

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of shorts set in Jack of Spades 'verse, previously posted on tumblr. Each chapter is a standalone, but it would make more sense to read the [main story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12009057) first. 
> 
> Snippets are posted in order of publication and not choronologically within the 'verse continuity. Exact ratings and specific content warnings, if applicable, are given at the beginning of each chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [Val Mora](http://archiveofourown.org/users/valmora/profile) for all the encouragement and advice, and to isthisrubble for giving it a once-over! <3

Among the terms of my continued peaceful retirement (as opposed to immediate termination of myself and any other individuals deemed a threat to my previous employer) was never accepting work from the British government. I may be employed by the private sector (although there are restrictions as well, but those generally amount to “a company affiliated to the intelligence or counterintelligence services, or terrorist organizations”). I had thought those terms fair, threat of death notwithstanding: I may be out of the game, for good, but if someone manages to persuade me to work against my country, “termination” would likely be a mercy. I hadn’t discussed this with Teddy, for obvious reasons. He doesn’t quite understand how far one can go to ensure cooperation of an asset; I hope it stays that way.

All of this, however, made finding a job post-retirement a lot more complicated. My engineering degree wasn’t exactly opening doors either. My specialty had been electronics; I’d kept up to date, in an applied way, but I couldn’t exactly tell recruiters I could reconfigure an electric car to be a threat to public safety, or break a high-class security system open like a peanut. My programming skills were also too specialized for most civilian occupations. My boss had been kind enough to have Ahmed make me a couple of recommendation letters, and a record of my previous “career”, redacted to omit anything suspicious. None of it helped, and six months after my retirement, two of which I had spent out of the country, I was still unemployed and trying not to give in to despair.

I probably could have tried for a fitness instructor at a club down the road, or a barman at the local, but I was saving those as a last resort. At least my pulmonologist was happy: the recovery, according to her, was going just fine. I’d brought her flowers on my last visit, because her optimism was contagious, if only too briefly.

I was contemplating a call to Teddy, after, to see if he was amenable to me dropping by his office and taking him out to lunch, when my phone rang.

“Kolya,” Teddy’s father said, by way of greeting.

“Frank Oswaldovich,” I said, because it still delighted him to no end to be called by that ridiculous name. I’d been glad to know he wasn’t angry at me, for everything, but I still felt guilty about endangering Teddy’s life, however inadvertently, and having to leave him, two and a half years ago. We’d had a halting conversation about that, with Frank, soon after I was out of the hospital. Both of us circled around the subject matter, reluctant, until Teddy caught us at it, rolled his eyes, and said, “Dad, he is sorry, and grateful, and doesn’t know how to say it, it keeps him up at night. Nick, he was worried and he loves you. Now hug it out, or whatever, and end this bloody nonsense”. Sometimes I wonder how British my husband really is.

“Kolya,” Frank said again, interrupting my train of thought. “I hear you’re in need of a job. A friend of mine is looking for a man of your talents - strictly above board, you understand”. I had told him about the restrictions; Frank, of all people, understood what was at stake. It had put him in a contemplative mood, but he agreed that the general principle was fair. I hadn’t asked him for help, though, and I was pretty sure Teddy hadn’t either. “If you’d agree to meet with him when you and Teddy visit me next week, I’m sure he’d tell you about it better than I.”

“Can’t hurt,” I said, and he snorted. “I will, thank you.”

“Still proud, I see,” Frank said, fondly. “Before you get the wrong idea, this isn’t charity, Kolya. Consider it an investment in my other son’s continued well-being.” With that, he hung up - he, at least, had a perfectly-tuned sense for when he and the person he was talking to had reached the limit of feelings to express openly.

-

It turned out that I wouldn’t be able to take Teddy to lunch, that week or the next: his editor was sending him to Geneva, for something related to the surveillance debacle, which everyone involved now collectively referred to as “that bloody mess”. It was Thursday; Teddy was expected to stay all through next weekend. He told me about it on the phone, no doubt packing his travel bag at the same time. He’d already called his father to amend the next week’s dinner plans. I caught up with him as he was running out the front door, only long enough to reel him in and kiss him goodbye, too quickly for both of our liking. Teddy squeezed my hands, his eyes bright and his lips distractingly pink, and raced down the stairs to the taxi that waited for him outside.

Without Teddy, the only distractions from the thought of being useless outside of secret service were his books and various forms of working out. I had a few items left over from my previous job, in a suitcase under the bed: a retirement gift from the team, delivered when Teddy and I got back to London from our vacation. I wasn’t comfortable with things like that just lying about, so I moved Teddy’s sofa to pry up several panels of his beautiful hardwood flooring and put the largest items underneath. I’d built the sensor a few weeks ago, when Teddy had been too consumed by a looming deadline on the book edits and hadn’t really paid attention to what I was soldering. It didn’t depend on an external power source, and stayed in a constant state of hibernation, using very little energy, until deliberately woken up. Configuring it took an entire evening: I’d accidentally made the thing too sensitive to begin with. To hide my tracks properly, I moved every piece of furniture that wasn’t fixed in place, and had redone the wax job on the living room floor.

It wasn’t going to keep us safe, not by a long shot, but it was - an investment in our continued well-being, as Frank had put it. And the work felt good; I knew I’d been idle too long.

-

The meeting with Frank’s acquaintance who was supposedly in need of my services happened despite Teddy’s absence. He was a short, stout man of about sixty, his once-dark hair gone mostly grey. Frank introduced him as Richard Avery; they had served together in the Navy. I wasn’t in the habit of rating people by their handshake, but Avery’s was firm and a little dry, much like his sense of humour. We talked a bit about my situation, all explanations altered to fit the story: compulsory army service at home, electrical and electronics engineering at university after, the last ten years spent working for the same company, currently unemployed after an injury related to husband’s investigative work.

“Why were you let go?” Avery asked, as we were walking slowly down a narrow path in Frank’s overgrown back garden. Frank himself had stayed behind, claiming his arthritic knee was acting up. It was just cool enough outside to make it believable.

“The company is family-owned,” I said, “and there was a change in management. They had to liquidate all foreign assets.”

Avery looked for a moment like he saw through the utter bullshit that it was, but nodded. The publicly available information all added up: the company I had supposedly been working for used to have offices in London and Berlin; there had been installations all over Europe, and some of those places matched the stamps in my current passport. One could even find some of the company’s former associates, all available for inquiry. It was just messy enough to look genuine; I had no doubt Avery had checked it, before meeting with me. Frank had assured me Avery had never, outside of his time in the Navy, been associated with intelligence services, but professional paranoia made me wonder.

“Why didn’t you go back?”

“I haven’t been in over ten years,” I said. “No one is waiting for me there. And then Teddy and I got married.” I smiled, somewhat apologetically: husband’s career to think of, but one can’t sit on one’s arse forever, etcetera, etcetera. Avery’s eyes flickered, but he nodded in understanding.

“I have a job for you, Nick,” Avery said as we passed a bush of what once had been a dog rose and now was one step away from being classified a public menace. “Let’s call it a test. There is a house in Epsom, whose owner has complaints about the security system malfunctions. Can you tell me what’s wrong with it?”

“Do I get access to the house?” I asked.

“I’m afraid that’s out of question for the moment,” Avery said, sounding apologetic. “The owner is currently out of the country; it’s in our contract that the specialists are to enter only when he is present onsite.”

“Interesting,” I said, while every alarm bell went off in my head. “Do I get access to the system plans, then?”

“They will be forwarded to you tomorrow,” Avery said, genially, and we shook hands.

-

Avery had been generous enough to at least provide me with an address. I went to Epsom next morning, to look at the house in question. It wasn’t by any means large, and looked too modern for the surrounding countryside. I parked well enough away and used one of Teddy’s telephoto lenses to take as many pictures as I could, to match the plans.

I stopped at the closest pub on the way back, and flirted shamelessly with a young man at the counter until I had what I needed: the year the house was built, the name of the owner, his general habits (he was often travelling on business while his family stayed home). I smiled, somewhat bashfully, and said that my boss was making me sell the guy some outrageously expensive security system; didn’t want to waste my time if the man already had one. Lying left a bad taste in my mouth, but it did the job and landed me the theoretical date of the owner’s return.

I spent the rest of the day looking at the system plan. According to Avery, it matched the installation at the house exactly. I had a hard time believing it, since one always has to account for unexpected decorating decisions or extra opening windows where nothing is supposed to open, but the plan matched what I’d seen from the outside. The lack of access was frustrating; I abandoned the work around six to move Teddy’s furniture back to its places: the floor in the living room was finally dry enough.

-

I went running early the next day, to clear my head and get some perspective. The night had been unrestful, and it wasn’t just the empty bed and the chilly quiet of the flat: I lay awake at night going through the house plans in my head, and I didn’t like any of the conclusions my brain was coming to. I went home, showered, changed and went out again, this time to a randomly chosen cafe a few stops away from Bond Street. I ordered a coffee, parked myself in a far corner, and piggybacked off the cafe’s wifi to get as much information about Avery & Thompson Security Consulting as my severely-diminished access would allow. My laptop, yet another gift, wasn’t as cutting-edge as one of Ahmed’s, but I could see his hand in everything: from the tuned-up operating system to the choice of specialized programs. Nothing to suggest the owner had an interest in digital breaking and entering, but a good set of tools nonetheless. It made me miss all of them, even Marina, and I had to stop myself from going over to the (now likely dead) fake gaming forum to leave a message.

I bought some of Teddy’s favourite pastries, just for the freshly-baked smell of them, and made a roundabout way home. Avery and Thompson was a respectable firm, with more than twenty years of shared history; before that, it had been Avery and Associates, until one of those, an engineer called Gavin, died of lung cancer. Avery was an engineer himself, and Thompson had started out with the police and did some detective work in the beginning. They were as above board as one could be, for people who started doing business in late nineties. None of it matched my impressions from the job I’d been given, and it was driving me up the wall.

-

Teddy came home unexpectedly early in the small hours of the morning on Friday. I was reviewing the plans again, on the off chance that I had missed something; at least that was what I told myself. I didn’t feel like going to sleep alone, not with everything that was on my mind.

Teddy poked his head into the kitchen, his brow furrowed in concern. “Hey,” he said, and I caught his hand and pulled him close to me, until he ended up in my lap. He still had his jacket on; I put my arms around him and my face into his chest, breathing deeply. He was definitely worried now, but said nothing, holding onto me just as tightly.

“Nick?” he said, finally, and I sighed and let him go.

“Welcome back,” I said, and, “tea?”

Teddy leaned down, boxing me in with one hand on the kitchen table and the other on the back of my chair.

“Whatever terrible thing happened while I was away,” he said, face close to mine so we could look directly at each other in the blue glow of the laptop, “spill. Now.”

“Nothing terrible happened yet,” I said, and his eyes narrowed. “I got a job offer, thanks to your dad. However, some things about it just don’t add up. Now wash your hands, I’ll put the kettle on.”

-

Teddy came back freshly showered, in track pants and nothing else. It was a terribly distracting look on him, which probably should not have worked so well after four years and six months together. But somehow it still did, and Teddy knew that. I’d turned the lights on and was standing at the counter, staring down at the teapot; must have been more tired than I thought. Teddy put his arms around me, and I turned and hugged him back, marvelling at his steady warmth.

“Now this is more like it,” Teddy said, so I kissed the corner of his mouth and extricated myself to pour us both tea. He sat down at the table, and I pushed the open laptop and the plate of pastries at him. He bit into one, eyes already glued to the screen, and his eyebrows rose. I put the mug in front of him and sat at right angles, watching as he demolished a piece of flaky dough and read on.

“Alright,” Teddy said, a few minutes later, delicately brushing the crumbs from his mouth. “Obviously, you lost me at the finer technical details, but this seems like an intentionally impossible task. Without seeing the house first hand, you can’t tell if anything is malfunctioning. What kind of job is that?”

“Unless what you want is to break in,” I said, and Teddy looked up at me sharply. “There are some apparent finer vulnerabilities, outlined here,” I pointed the place out, “but it’s impossible to know if they can be exploited, and how well, until you test them in person. For all I know, they had been corrected right after the initial installation, and the system is working just fine.” Teddy was still looking at me. “Which begs the question: what’s in that house, and why should someone like Avery care about it?”

“I’ve known him since childhood,” Teddy said, slowly. “He’s always been one of Dad’s closest friends outside of service. Do you really think he’d try something like this?”

“Do I think your dad would do this?” I said. “Of course not. Do I think someone he knows might try to use me for something underhanded? I’d rather have doubts and be proven wrong.”

Teddy put his hand on my cheek, and I turned into it and kissed his palm, right under the ring.

“Was that what kept you up all week?” he asked, quietly. His thumb brushed under my eye.

“Not just this,” I said. “Let me show you something.”

-

Teddy made a face at the faint smell of floor wax still lingering in the darkened living room.

“Were you really that bored?” he asked, a deep line of concern between his eyebrows.

“No,” I said. “This was actually the opposite of boring. Now, give me a hand.”

I showed him where to push so the sofa slid back smoothly at an angle. I’d put soft felt pads on its legs so it wouldn’t scrape the floor. Underneath, one of the altered floorboards had a faint depression, like someone had dropped a heavy book on it. I beckoned Teddy closer, and both of us kneeled so I could slide his hand forward until his fingers found it.

“Right ring finger,” I said. “Cheesy, but not so obvious to outsiders. Press like you would on a phone.”

Teddy did, an intent expression on his face. One of the floorboards popped up, and I removed it to show him the contents, just visible in the light coming from the kitchen: two handguns, a rifle not unlike the one he used to save both of our lives six months ago, ammunition, all wrapped individually in waterproof plastic. I pointed out a smaller, parcel-sized bag.

“Two sets of IDs each,” I said. “Two British, one German for me, one French for you. Some cash. A key to a deposit box, with instructions for various instances. Two clean SIM cards.” Teddy looked like he couldn’t choose between feeling alarmed and resigned. “Nothing bad is happening, I promise. This is strictly in case of unforeseen emergencies.” I put the floorboards back and showed him how to rearm the sensor, then pushed the sofa back into place.

Teddy was still sitting on the floor, his elbows on his knees. He looked up at me, and rose when I gave him a hand up.

“It won’t open for just anyone,” I said. “Configured to your print and mine only.”

“You are impossible,” he said, holding my face in his hands. I leaned in to kiss him, and he sighed into my mouth. “Completely impossible”.

-

“You’ve redone the entire room’s floor because of this?” Teddy asked, later, pressed against me in bed, both of us gloriously naked; we’d started yawning as soon as we were horizontal, but this felt too good. I put an arm around his waist, and he slid his leg between mine. “Because of that - safe?”

“It would’ve left suspicious tracks, otherwise,” I said. “You hadn’t so much as turned that sofa since you moved in - this is not a criticism, just an observation. Right now, you can’t say what had been moved recently, because everything had been. And as for the wax, you can blame it on your husband who had too much time on his hands.” I leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Do you want me to go with you tomorrow?” Teddy asked, seriously. I could tell he was fighting sleep for every word - his voice was soft and his eyelids were heavy.

“No,” I said. “I’ll deal with it.”

-

“So, Nick,” Avery said to me the next day, waving in the general direction of the house, “what do you think is wrong with this?”

We met in Epsom, by the pub I’d gone to, and drove down to the same place I’d watched the house from for the first time. It was windy, and Avery had put on a jacket - a plaid one, with elbow patches. It seemed incongruous; I couldn’t tell if he was carrying or not. I leaned on my car, refusing to move to where he stood a few steps away, just for the added protection of a piece of metal. It’s funny how naked you feel without a voice in your ear constantly whispering observations and instructions.

“Nothing,” I said, looking straight at Avery. “From what I can tell without actually stepping inside, absolutely everything about this place is fine, except for one thing. Why do you suddenly care about it? It’s not your company’s work.”

“Good,” Avery said, turning his dark eyes at me and smiling. It wasn’t malicious at all. “Very good, Nick. I’m assuming you didn’t talk to the owner?”

I shook my head, slowly.

“You wouldn’t believe how many times a client had tried to use us to break into a building that didn’t belong to them,” Avery said. “We had to start hiring personnel who knows well enough to do research in case there’s any doubt. You’ve done well - and it’s only been two days.

"The job is yours, if you want it, Nick. We can discuss the terms down at the pub. If you like, that is.” He nodded at me, got into his car, and drove off. I stood for a moment, lost in thought. Avery reminded me of my boss. No superficial likeness, but he seemed to be just as cunning. And the work would be interesting. I got into the car and followed him.

-

The text came well past midnight - going on four, Moscow time. _Breaking and entering?_

The code had to be hopelessly outdated by now. Ahmed has officially retired this version for everyone but me in the middle of the whole bloody mess, when I’d gone on my solo stint, to protect the team’s communication protocols in case I or my tech got captured. I’d used his systems for so long that I had no trouble deciphering the message now, or responding.

_Having doubts about potential employer._

Teddy shifted in his sleep, his arm tightening around me. He’d spent the day at the office, sorting out the information from Switzerland, and came home around eleven, too exhausted to even talk about it. He’d made encouraging noises when I told him about Avery’s offer, but I doubted he retained any of it: all too quickly, his head grew heavy on my shoulder and his eyes slipped closed. I shuffled him to bed soon after, to spare us both the pain of waking up on the sofa. Now there he was, sleep-warm and snoring softly, while I was staring at the ceiling, unable to keep my eyes shut.

The phone blinked with another text. _Security consulting, really?_

 _I make a very bad kept man_ , I wrote back.

The phone started flashing with an incoming call almost immediately.

For a second or two, I considered not answering - but then the doubt crept in. Maybe this was important. Maybe I couldn’t work for Avery, after all. What finally decided me was Teddy: his brow furrowed, and he turned away from the blinking light. I extricated myself carefully and went to answer the call in the kitchen.

“Turn the camera on,” Ahmed said.

“Why, hello to you, too,” I said, but did as he asked. He looked good, despite the late hour - hair and beard neat, his usual elegant glasses; no dark shadows under his eyes, and not dressed like he just stepped out of GQ, though, so definitely not working.

“Hey,” Ahmed said, “it’s good to see you, Kolya.”

“Likewise,” I said. “Am I a person of interest?”

Ahmed huffed. “You are an asset,” he said. “And you could have asked me, by the way. Not that you left much of a trace behind, but still. And what about Avery has bothered you? He doesn’t seem our usual type.”

“Something he said,” I replied. “Never mind, turns out it was a competency test. And it was impressed upon me that I shouldn’t. Contact you, I mean. Dangerously close to working in the private sector, for you.”

Ahmed rolled his eyes at that.

“Don’t be daft,” he said. “We’re friends; we have things to talk about that aren’t classified. And I’d rather you asked me, in the future. It’s easier to protect you that way.”

“I haven’t thanked you for all the gifts yet,” I said.

“Katya’s idea,” Ahmed said. “I think he was impressed by the arsenal your husband managed to bring for your rescue. I actually justified the phone and the laptop as mission expenses, too, so it’s all sanctioned. And you don’t need to worry: it doesn’t go past me, and you know my opinion on personal privacy. I wouldn’t be spying on your every move”

“It did look like a thinly-veiled attempt to keep tabs on me,” I said. “Not that I’m offended.”

“An attempt you could clearly see and are able to circumvent if you need to,” Ahmed said. “I told Boss retiring you was a mistake, but he didn’t listen.”

“I’m not sure it was,” I said. In fact, I was happy to not have to hide my life from Teddy anymore. “I just - it’s like I said, before. I need to do something. But things I’m good at would raise eyebrows, outside of - our line of work. I can’t exactly go and teach children aikido here, you know,” I really needed to stop talking, right this instant. It was bad enough sorting through this inside my own head; saying it out loud made everything worse. “Not that I’m qualified to do that.”

Ahmed was frowning at me, thoughtfully.

“I think I owe Katya,” he said, and I was almost pathetically grateful that we weren’t going to discuss my mental state, after all. “He said that you would go stir-crazy in six months or so. And don’t worry about Avery. I peeked into some of the things they do. You’ll like it.”

“How is Katya, anyway?” I asked, to change the subject.

Ahmed snorted. “Learning English,” he said. “Would you believe it? Took him years to make up his mind. Whines a lot about it, too.”

“It’s not that difficult,” I said, a smile tugging at my mouth. The mental image of Katya swearing at a textbook was just too amusing.

“I’m telling him you said that,” Ahmed replied. “By the way, feel free to contact him as well. I think he misses the constant griping.”

“Will do,” I said. It felt like something was stuck in my throat. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Ahmed said. “Just don’t embarrass me with your hacking,” and ended the call.

I sat for a while, after, head pillowed on my arms, just staring into space, until I heard a careful shuffle of a feet. Teddy was standing in the doorway, looking at me.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he said, his tone level and his eyes uncertain. There was a pillow crease impression on his cheek; I got up and went to him, pulling him closer to press my lips to the faint pink lines of it, then to his bare shoulder.

“Not at all”, I said. “Just catching up.”

Teddy leant into me, humming under his breath.

“Marjorie said to not show my face at the office until Tuesday,” he said. His hand rested on the back of my head, reassuring.

“How unexpectedly generous of her,” I said, and felt him smile against my temple.

“No homework, either,” Teddy said, and I had to look up at him. His eyes were half-closed; the curve of his mouth was soft and fond. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve this man in my life, and I wanted him to never have a reason to doubt me again. I kissed his smiling lips, the fading lines of the scar on his cheek, the corner of his eye; he leaned in and kissed me back.

“Come to bed?” Teddy said.

“Yeah,” I said, “let’s,” and turned us both towards it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also available [on Tumblr](http://beili.tumblr.com/post/158325479866/the-first-one-of-post-jack-of-spades-snippets)


	2. In which Katya reads The Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little thing for [Val Mora](http://archiveofourown.org/users/valmora/profile), who wanted “an entire side-snippet that’s a narrated liveblog of Katya reading Book” (aka Teddy’s novel) :).
> 
> Warnings: Katya is 80 to 90% profanity. Any similarity with existing usernames is accidental and unintended.

@n_matveev: i heard you were learning english  
@n_matveev: here’s some light reading for you :)

@katyayes: the actual fuck, man  
@katyayes: is it that super popular novel your better half wrote for a lark

@n_matveev: i figured you won’t kill me but you might enjoy it

@katyayes: whatever, it’s not like I have the time to read it  
@katyayes: also i hope you know there’s a fan translation

@n_matveev: you’re welcome

-

@katyayes : I can’t believe you made me read a book about kids

@n_matveev: so how’s the fan translation going?

@katyayes: too slow  
@katyayes: also, not very smoothly  
@katyayes: I think I might not be the only one reading it with a dictionary  
@katyayes: okay but leaving aside the premise which I can actually believe  
@katyayes: since human stupidity knows no boundaries  
@katyayes: the hell is that girl thinking, befriending a military guy twenty years her senior?  
@katyayes: though if they have nothing to eat it makes sense  
@katyayes: he might actually shoot something edible  
@katyayes: or they might eat him

@n_matveev: not that kind of book, sorry to disappoint

@katyayes: no spoilers

-

@katyayes: okay when you said you thought I wouldn’t kill you

@n_matveev: ooops here it goes

@katyayes: you meant those two dudes are totally doing it offscreen  
@katyayes: or was there something else

@n_matveev: katya, it’s a children’s book  
@n_matveev: you said no spoilers but I promise you it’s not r-rated

@n_matveev: still want to kill me?

@katyayes: nah the girl appears again

@katyayes: you can live

-

@katyayes: i was away for two weeks and I really wanted to ignore this damn book but the military guy is actually competent  
@katyayes: though like fuck would he have escaped the bad guys with just a minor wound  
@katyayes: I would not have used the gun though  
@katyayes: explosives are better

@n_matveev: still a book for children, katya

-

@katyayes: fuck fuck fuckfuck  
@katyayes: no kid don’t go there  
@katyayes: yes send the big oaf there that’s why you keep him  
@katyayes: fuck man why  
@katyayes: okay, no  
@katyayes: seriously, no  
@katyayes: man why are _you_ going there  
@katyayes: did they take your guy  
@katyayes: okay seriously this is not on  
@katyayes: fuck no  
@katyayes: bloody buggering fuck

-

@katyayes: I am rooting for the gay dudes i hope you’re fucking happy

@n_matveev: i knew you were secretly human  
@n_matveev: don’t worry, i won’t tell anyone

@katyayes: nothing better happen to them, or else

@n_matveev: still a spoiler-free zone :)

@katyayes: I fucking hate you, man

-

@katyayes: okay, I’m done  
@katyayes: you can live  
@katyayes: also if that is how he feels about you i hope you know how lucky you are

@n_matveev: i know  
@n_matveev: thank you

@katyayes: you’re welcome, man  
@katyayes: I can’t believe you tricked me into reading this thing, and in english, too  
@katyayes: I cried at the end and I wasn’t even drunk  
@katyayes: this happens exactly never  
@katyayes: and you were right, I enjoyed it  
@katyayes: thank Edward for me, he wrote a good one

@n_matveev: will do  
@n_matveev: and thank you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also available [on Tumblr](http://beili.tumblr.com/post/158459966305/a-little-thing-written-for-val-mora-who-wanted)


	3. Touch-starved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene: Nick during and immediately after his stay at the hospital. (Being touch-starved sucks, and being sleep-deprived on top of that is just plain awful.)

I hadn’t realized what was happening until the third day or so after waking up at the hospital. The orderlies started shooing Teddy out in the evening - to sleep in a proper bed, one of them said. Teddy tried digging his heels in, a few times, but we both knew his body couldn’t handle sleeping in chairs for so long. I told him he needed to take care of himself, too, and finally he gave in and went. 

I spent the night staring at the ceiling, unable to keep my eyes shut. 

Teddy came in around ten, looking like he’d been busy doing the same thing as I - his face was paler and the shadows under his eyes got darker. I couldn’t tell anymore if it was the combination of stress, injury and medication, or if my circadian rhythm was simply shot to hell, but I closed my eyes for just a moment, Teddy sitting by my side with a book of sudoku, and woke up to the low evening light slanting through the blinds. Teddy was asleep, his arm resting heavily across my chest.

I’m not in the habit of lying to myself. I didn’t want him to leave, even if it was just for a few hours. I didn’t want him out of my sight. But I couldn’t ask him to stay either.

Teddy’s eyes opened, and he straightened with a grimace. We watched each other for a moment in mutual understanding.

“It’ll be fine,” I said. Even to my own ears, it didn’t sound convincing. “I’ll need to start getting up properly tomorrow or the day after, anyway. Staying horizontal can lead to all kinds of nasty stuff.”

Teddy shuddered.

“We don’t want that,” he said quietly.

“It’ll help,” I said.

-

It didn’t help, not even one bit. I spent most of the next night drifting, in a strange semi-lucid state. It went on like this for the rest of the week: the only time I managed to have any shuteye was when Teddy came over. He looked like he barely had any at all, himself. My doctor was furious.

“You’re not going to get better this way,” she told me after day five. We’d searched for a language we both knew well enough to communicate and compromised on German. I caught up on relevant medical terms with the help of Teddy’s phone.

“So discharge me,” I told her. At her disbelieving expression, I said, “Look, it’s been over a week. I’m conscious and recovering. You’re due to kick me out anyway. There are pulmonologists in London, and I’m very good at following PT instructions.”

“Aren’t you a smooth talker,” she said, but I could see she was wavering.

“My boyfriend and I haven’t seen each other for two years,” I told her, because what did I have to lose? I was pretty sure Teddy and I, the circumstances of our arrival, and our numerous visitors were the gossip of the year here. “And then - this. I just want to finally go home.” And have the first restful sleep in days, I didn’t say. It was barely ten in the morning, and I was already exhausted; my skin felt like someone had gone at it with sandpaper.

My doctor looked at me, her mouth twisted down at the corners. “Fine,” she said at last, “but only because staying here is clearly doing you more harm than good. At least your boyfriend seems like a reliable person. I’ll refer you to a specialist; be sure to keep up the PT as well. And for the love of everything, avoid respiratory diseases in the nearest future. That bronchitis had been bad enough.”

“Thank you,” I said, with feeling. 

-

The Swedish intelligence service got us out of the hospital and onto a plane in record time. I had no idea what kind of story Ahmed had spun for them, but they seemed eager to get us out of the country as soon as possible. I was just glad the village destruction and the highway incident had been pinned on Kuzin’s associates and not on me.

I spent the flight drifting in and out of a shallow, fitful doze. Teddy was asleep almost as soon as his head touched my shoulder; I listened to his deep, even breathing, the hum of the plane engines, the snatches of conversation around us, and told myself that was it. The nightmare of the mission was over; my whole life in intelligence was over. It didn’t quite compute, still. I half expected my borrowed phone to ping with encrypted messages that wouldn’t be coming.

Teddy saved me from myself by opening his eyes just before we started to prepare for landing.

“Hey,” he said quietly, blinking up at me. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. It was mostly true. The bullet wound ached, but the cough was completely gone. The rest of it, I’d have to tackle one thing at a time.

Teddy rubbed his cheek on my sweater, briefly, and straightened; for a moment, it almost felt like bleeding out in the snow again, his warmth seeping from my shoulder. 

-

In the taxi, we sat two careful hand widths apart. I wanted, more than anything, to touch Teddy - something as small as his fingers in mine - but wasn’t sure I could be made to stop if I started. It seemed that Teddy felt the same - he’d wrapped his arms around himself, tightly, and looked one step away from losing consciousness altogether. My own appearance verged on what Katya had once called “generally mistreated”. The driver gave us suspicious glances every once in awhile, but Teddy’s upscale address seemed to reassure him.

Walking into the flat again was like a punch to the gut. It was almost the same as the last time I had seen it, if somewhat dusty - Teddy said he hadn’t been home for a full month. He slipped off his shoes and coat and went to pull the curtains open, while I stood in the hallway, rooted to the spot.

“Nick?” Teddy said, poking his head out of the kitchen and looking at me with concern.

“Sorry,” I said, hoarse. He frowned and came closer, started unwinding my scarf. One of his hands came to rest over my bullet wound, a light, gentle pressure; I reeled him in by the open lapels of his coat and hugged him, tightly.

I didn’t realize at first the quiet desperate sounds were coming from me. It felt dangerously close to sobbing, though my eyes were dry. Teddy held on, his hands gentle on my back, my shoulders, the back of my head.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “I’ve got you, Nick. Hush.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also available [on Tumblr](http://beili.tumblr.com/post/158519265616/two-random-snippets-part-one)


	4. Writer's Block

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing is hard, but sometimes your husband has all the best ideas.

Watching Teddy write, after all the time apart, was both familiar and strangely novel. Usually I kept out of the way while he worked, unless he needed a break or wanted to talk through a particular point. In a tiny house on the beach solitude was relative. I did my best to drag Teddy outside with some regularity while he did his best to turn the mess of information Marjorie had saddled him with into something readable. Mostly he was done by midnight; this time, though, minutes ticked past, and he kept staring at the screen.

I decided to intervene after two a.m.

“Hey,” I said. Teddy was sitting at the tiny rickety table he used as a writing space, laptop open in front of him. His head was resting on his arms. “Hey, how about you call it a night for now? You’ll turn completely nocturnal otherwise, which would suck a lot because you refuse to swim at night.”

Teddy raised his head at that.

“Yes,” he said, rubbing at his eyes, “and you shouldn’t either. You can’t see anything in the dark, and - jellyfish.”

In a strange way, that made sense. “That’s okay,” I said, and risked putting my hands on his shoulders; he didn’t shrug me off, which was a good sign. “Come on, let’s go take a walk. No swimming in the dark, I promise”.

We went outside and ambled along the shoreline slowly, our hands just brushing. I caught Teddy’s fingers in mine; he sighed and leaned into my shoulder.

“It’s incredibly frustrating,” he said. “All that work, and nothing to show for it. The facts make sense separately, but not together.”

“Something is missing, or someone is lying,” I said. It was all too familiar.

Teddy sighed again. “Everyone is lying,” he said. “People who wouldn’t talk to me before because they thought I was in a downward spiral don’t talk to me now because they think Marjorie had given me access to something exclusive. Her sources would not come forward now that things are out in the open - so we’d better have concrete proof, or else.” We came to a stop where the beach curved inwards gently, and Teddy turned us around, looking over the darkened little houses, water lapping at our feet.

“I can’t say I miss working with the dead,” he said, “but at least they’re truthful. They might mislead you, but it’s not because of malice, or ambition, or because they hate you and want you to fail.” He put an arm around my waist, and I pressed my lips to his temple.

“Be scared of living,” I said.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Teddy said, quiet and completely serious. “I don’t know what I would have done with myself - otherwise.”

It was something neither of us wanted to contemplate, so instead of answering, I got us moving again.

“Is that why Marjorie let you go?” I asked as we were nearing the house.

“Hmm?” Teddy said. “Oh. I’m not officially back to work yet.”

His smile, when I put a light on, was small and teasing.

“And that’s why you spend eight hours a day going at it,” I said, sidling up to him as he pulled off his t-shirt.

“She wanted me to make sense of her own findings and mine,” Teddy said. “I told her I couldn’t do it without you, and London is not good for you right now. She grumbled a lot, but agreed. Would’ve been much easier if I was writing pure fiction, though.”

“It’s anno domini 2035, and The Eyes have completely taken over London,” I said in my best ominous voice, and Teddy grinned.

“I hope you don’t mind me writing that down,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also available [on Tumblr](http://beili.tumblr.com/post/158557630356/two-random-snippets-part-two)


	5. Third Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extended scene: how that third ~~date~~ meeting had gone. (Also: aftermath of a terrible mission, nosy team members, and Kolya’s legendary awful beard makes an appearance).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning for non-graphic description of injury (no violence is described). Slightly NSFW. Hurt/comfort if you squint.

“Oh my _god_ ”, Ahmed said when he saw me, “Kolya. What’s that _thing_ on your face?”

I glared at him, but the phone screen was too small to translate facial expressions well. Besides, glaring becomes awkward if you do it while cleaning up scratches on your side and back.

“It’s called a beard”, I said.

“No”, Ahmed said, patting himself on the chin for emphasis. “ _This_ is called a beard. Katya’s scruff may be called a beard, if we’re being charitable. Yours just looks like it’s a living thing that’s going to take over your face”.

“Which is why I’m shaving it off in a moment”, I said. The scratch on my back ran deeper than the others, but it would soon be scabbing over. “They don’t exactly hand out razors in sensory deprivation cells”.

Ahmed was silent; I taped up the deepest part of the cut (still awkward, but manageable, with a mirror) and said, “Earth to Ahmed. Do we have a problem?”

“I’m sorry”, he said, serious. “We got you out as soon as we could”.

“Hey, I’m not complaining”, I said. “You did well and I’ll be fine. Now, can I shave in peace?”

There was a grumble somewhere behind Ahmed. “Katya wants to come over”, he said.

“No”, I said. “It’s going to take forever, and my flight leaves in three hours. I’m ready to be out of here, and besides, I’m okay”.

Katya’s face took over the screen.

“If you say so”. He took a good long look at my side. “Man, that’s fucking nasty”.

“It’s not”, I said firmly. It had been nasty initially, but the current state of it was somewhere between “I can’t lie on my right side too long” and “nothing to worry about”. “Now, if you are quite done?”

“He learns from the Brits”, Katya said, grinning. It made me think of the one Brit I did want to see, though there was no guarantee he’d be available. “They’ll teach you bad things, Kolya!”

If only you knew, I thought.

“Are you going to let me make myself look civilized or not?” I said. “Matveev out”.

-

Getting rid of seriously bad-looking and unwanted facial hair took upwards of forty minutes. I didn’t grow it all in confinement - I’d only spent less than 48 hours in the cell, thankfully - but the weeks prior had been full of action and low on personal time. The idea to call the number I got in Ukraine had well and truly set in. I did palm one of Teddy’s business cards the first time around, but it had just had his full name and email, and I wasn’t going to _email_ a man for a booty call.

I dialed before I could change my mind, and, wonder of wonders, it connected after the third ring.

“Graham”, he said.

“Hi”, I said, suddenly overcome with doubt. “It’s -”, _that Russian guy you slept with twice_ was going to sound stupid, “Matveev, ugh, we met in -”

“Nick!” he said, unexpectedly joyous. “Good to hear from you. Where are you?”

“Hotel Transylvania”, I said, and he huffed a laugh. “Well, not really, but I’m in Romania and my flight back leaves in two hours”.

“You could come here”, he said immediately. Was he even real? “Save me from myself. I’ve been stuck in London for two weeks now, and it’s driving me insane. Please?”

“You’d have to tell me where "here” is", I said, my mouth only a little dry.

“I’ve got a better idea”, he said. “What’s the number of your flight?”

-

I hadn’t slept for more than half an hour at a time in several days, which was likely why passport control at Henri Coanda International was giving me dubious looks. At least, freshly showered and shaved, I didn’t look like an old movie guerilla fighter hunting Nazis in the Romanian mountains. I even managed a smile for the female customs clerk, and eventually they let me through security.

The siren call of sleep was loud and clear at that point, so instead of sitting down in the waiting area I parked myself and my carry-on beside a large leafy plant and texted Ahmed.

 _Going home_ , I wrote, in our usual post-mission code. _Planning to have company._ Do not _call unless v. urgent._

His reply was nearly instantaneous. _That journalist from Donbass?_

 _He’s English_ , I wrote, _and I met him before that._ And as an afterthought, _Don’t tell Katya._

 _Well duh,_ Ahmed said. _Check in after three days?_

 _Make that a week_ , I said. _Got to go._

 _Lucky bastard. I_ will _hack you if you don’t_ , Ahmed said.

 _Promises_ , I wrote back, and then the boarding was announced.

-

I’d like to say I didn’t sleep on the flight through sheer force of will, but it was entirely due to a crying baby three rows over. I’d sympathized with her and felt pathetically grateful at the same time; it didn’t seem likely that my neighbours, a sharp-looking woman in a business suit who reminded me vaguely of Marina, and a tall, lanky man with a French newspaper on his tablet, would appreciate a screaming and thrashing nightmare in their vicinity.

-

I didn’t feel particularly sharp when the flight landed at Heathrow almost four hours later, but the sight of Teddy, in jeans and a dark blue sweater that brought out his eyes, woke me up a little. I don’t know how I didn’t crash into him right then and there; it was going on twenty hours since the last catnap, and I half expected myself to start hallucinating at any moment. Teddy stole my bag and put an arm around me, then steered us towards his car.

He looked good and smelled even better, and I’d told him so; he ducked his head and grinned, and next thing I knew, we were in his tiny electric Opel, pulling out of the parking lot.

I leaned against the window and watched his profile, the way his hands rested on the wheel when we stopped at a red light.

“Long day?” he asked.

“Long month”, I said, and the corner of his lips turned up.

“My place is in Mayfair”, he said. “Might take a bit, in this traffic”.

-

I pulled Teddy in and kissed him as soon as the door to his apartment closed behind us. He pressed into me, all long, lean lines and a hot, insistent mouth; I had the presence of mind to shrug out of my jacket before putting my hands on his waist, under his sinfully soft sweater and equally soft t-shirt. The muscles in his back flexed under my palms and his own hands untucked my shirt and slid down the back of my trousers.

The phone in my jacket pocket started ringing.

“Goddammit”, I said, with feeling, and Teddy huffed a laugh. Getting the phone required taking my hands off him, and he retaliated by biting lightly where my neck met the shoulder.

“This better be really fucking urgent”, I said when the call connected. Teddy leaned back, his hips pressed to mine in the most distracting way, and started unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom up.

“Kolya”, Katya said, and damn him three times and backwards, he didn’t start with a code, so it was just him being a mother hen and not a bloody emergency. Teddy’s fingers brushed my bare stomach, and I didn’t quite bite down on a groan; there was a stunned silence on the other end of the line.

“What part of "busy, do not call” did I not say clearly?“ I hissed. Teddy chuckled, so I could tell he understood that. "I _will_ bother you next time you’re talking to your girlfriend”, and Teddy put his arms around me to hide his laugh in my neck. I slid my free arm around his shoulders. “I’m _fine_. Now stop calling, because if the world isn’t ending I’m sure as hell not going to answer”.

I dropped the phone back into my pocket, pulled Teddy up and kissed him some more. By then my shirt was held closed only by a single button at my throat. Teddy’s fingers found my nipple and twisted, and I groaned into his mouth.

“Bed”, he said, low and heated.

“Best idea ever”, I said, toed off my shoes and let him steer me towards it.

-

We fell into his bed, down to our underwear, still kissing like it was going out of style. He came up for air, leaning over me, and said, “Sorry, stuff’s in the bathroom, won’t be a moment”, and between his scent surrounding me, the sleek cool slide of his sheets and the sudden languidness in my limbs, I was out like a light before he was back.

-

I vaguely remembered jerking awake at some indeterminable hour. It was dark, but the darkness wasn’t absolute - I could tell where the walls of the room were, the contours of the furniture. The glow of the streetlights was filtering through the curtains, and there was a sound of distant traffic and someone breathing deeply, close by. There was no sense of suspension, the sheets soft and warm on my skin. A hand ruffled the hair at the back of my neck, a careful and gentle touch.

If it was a hallucination, at least it was a comforting one. I let the touch lull me back to sleep.

-

When I woke up next, it was day, and Teddy was by my side, fully dressed and above the covers, reading a book. He didn’t notice me wake up, or made a good show of it, and I studied him for a while. The shrapnel cuts on his face were healed pink lines; they would be completely gone, give or take a few years. He looked soft and relaxed, and when I traced the scarring his my fingers, lightly, the corner of his mouth turned up.

“How long?” I asked, my voice scratchy from sleep.

“Nearly a full day”, he said, closing his book - now I could see it was a trashy spy novel - and passing me a glass of water from the nightstand. I pressed my face into the pillow, briefly, and raised up on my elbow to drink; the tape on my back pulled a little, but nothing hurt beyond a dull discomfort.

“I got worried around the hour sixteen”, he said, taking the glass back when I was done. “I didn’t know humans were a hibernating species”. The smile on his face was warm and easy, and I had no idea what I’d done to deserve this. I took the book from his hand and let it fall over the edge of the bed, then pulled at him until he got with the program and slid down beside me.

“It’s an energy-saving tactic”, I said, and he laughed quietly and kissed me, close-mouthed and sweet.

“I need a shower”, I said, because sleeping in the man’s bed for almost twenty-four hours was one thing, but it’s important to have standards.

“Mmmm”, he said, his lips close to my ear, “later. We could share”, and I shivered and held on to his hips.

“First, an environmentally friendly car, next, conserving the water”, I said, arching into his mouth. “A man after my own heart”. He laughed and kissed over my collarbones, but his hands stayed disappointingly above the blanket. I tugged it off and pulled him on top of me, and was gratified to find him half-hard and hot against my hip, through the cotton of his sweatpants.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, his knuckles gentle against my cheek and jaw, sliding down. “You looked dead on your feet, at the airport”.

“I’m all right”, I said, getting two handfuls of his arse and squeezing to make a point. He thrust against me with a sound of surprise and pleasure. “Now fuck me”, I said, and he moaned again and bit me, and there was no talking for a good while after that.

“Did I scream?” I asked Teddy, after. We were sprawled, boneless, across his decadent bed, his head pillowed on my shoulder and his nose pressed into my neck. “At night, I mean”.

His brow furrowed and his finger circled my nipple, still oversensitive from his mouth earlier. I squirmed.

“No”, he said, raising his head to look at me. “You talked a bit, something completely unintelligible”. He was still frowning, so I leaned in and kissed the scars on his cheek, and he sighed and lay back down, his arm across my chest and his leg between mine. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed and safe.

“Good”, I said. “Want that shower now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also available [on Tumblr](http://beili.tumblr.com/post/158726620246/jack-of-spades-extended-scene-how-that-third#notes)


	6. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kolya is great at getting himself in trouble and pretending he is Fine afterwards, and Teddy's having none of it. (Missing scene, set sometime between the third meeting and and the in-story moment when Kolya finds out Teddy considers him his boyfriend.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: unapologetically and graphically NSFW; hurt/comfort; aftermath of violence (actual violence not described), mild injury; domestic fluff.

I went to look at my healing flank while Teddy was on the phone with his editor.

I had long uneven scratches running down the ribs and lower towards the small of my back, on the left side. Katya had helped me clean and bandage them, but that had been almost a day ago. The dressings needed changing either way.

I peeled off the bandages carefully. The cuts weren’t that deep, but the ragged edges made them more painful. I tested the range of upper body motion: there was a dull ache that turned sharper with crunch-like movements. Must’ve pulled something in my rush to tear myself out of the trap.

I had just decided everything was doing tolerably and was rummaging in the medicine cabinet for some tape to hold the new bandages in place when there was a soft knock on the door. 

Teddy was standing in the doorway. “It was open”, he said. He looked at the bandages, the mess that was my left side, and his mouth turned down at the corners. “May I come in?”

“Of course”, I said. He was frowning; his hand hovered over my waist and hip, like he couldn’t decide where to put it safely, and then fell away. He took me gently by the shoulders and turned us so he could see better. I watched him in the mirror: his eyes followed the lines torn into my skin, and his face darkened.

“Have you cleaned them?” Teddy asked.

“Yes”, I said, not looking away from his face. He looked briefly angry, then exasperated, when I caught his eye in the mirror.

“May I?” he asked, nodding at the medical supplies.

“Please”, I said, and his expression wavered. I groped behind me to get a hold of his hip, and squeezed; he sighed and kissed the back of my neck, his face lingering there.

“Teddy”, I said, needing - something, and he sighed again and let me go. I felt oddly disappointed, and chided myself that I shouldn’t have been.

Teddy turned me a little more towards the light, washed his hands and slid to his knees, taking the medical kit with him.

“What did this?” he asked. His touch was clinical as he went over the cuts with antiseptic again, his other hand on my bare stomach, steadying. I knew he could feel the tension in me; I covered his hand with mine, watching him in the mirror.

“Barbed wire”, I said, and Teddy looked up at me mutely, aghast.

“And you didn’t tell me”, he said, no doubt thinking of the moment when he kissed me hello at the door, his hands around my waist, holding me tightly. It had hurt a bit, but I’d been so happy to see him that I hadn’t cared, had kissed him back just as hungrily. We’d only been interrupted by his phone ringing.

“It was fine”, I said, meaning it. Sometimes I wondered what he thought I was doing for a living, but he never really asked, and it was not a can of worms worth opening, not if I could help it. I did tell him about my education in engineering, before. He seemed to be of the opinion that I was some kind of ex-military specialist, working at remote locations that sometimes turned out to be full of dangerous surprises. I could live with that. His investigations were often more risky, as he didn’t have highly-trained military personnel for backup. I didn’t pry for every detail, though, and he seemed to appreciate it.

“Nick”, Teddy said, firmly. “You come back hurt. That’s - not fine, obviously, it’s the opposite of fine - but that’s between you and your job. I can’t tell you what to do with your wounds, but let’s not insult our respective intelligence by pretending I don’t see them”.

He prepared the dressings and put them over the deepest cuts, fixing them in place with bits of medical tape, his touch careful and firm. It made something hot unfold in my chest. I turned to him when he was done, pulling him up and leaning in to catch his mouth, but Teddy kept the kiss brief.

“I have to go to the office”, he said quietly. He looked deeply unhappy; his hands had clenched into fists at his sides. I touched his knuckles, and his fingers opened, clenched again, relaxed. “It’ll be a couple of hours”.

Which could mean anything from four to fourteen; we’d been at this long enough for me to know how his job worked. He was never not on call, even on his days off.

I nodded. Teddy busied himself with putting on something office-appropriate and gathering his laptop, phone, car keys and papers. I followed his progress from a vantage point at the kitchen counter; he went from intended-to-sleep-all-day relaxed to spotless business-casual in under ten minutes, the same unhappy expression never leaving his face until he was shrugging into his jacket at the door. Then it smoothed out into something unreadable.

“Might be all night”, Teddy said, voice carefully neutral. He bit down on whatever he’d meant to say next, not looking at me. I wanted more than anything to hold him in place and talk him through whatever it was that made him so upset; he raised his head and our eyes met. We were both wavering, until he took a decisive step back.

“I’ll see you when I see you”, Teddy said, and closed the door behind himself.

I tried to puzzle it out while I emptied his hamper and my travel bag and started laundry, put away a small pile of clean t-shirts, straightened a much bigger pile of books on the floor by his bedside. Did Teddy want me to go back to mine? Did he expect me to do so, when he wasn’t in, even though we hadn’t seen each other for weeks and he’d be back in just a few hours? He seemed to enjoy my company much more than solitude, especially when his mind wasn’t completely consumed by work. My place wasn’t as nice as his or even all that comfortable, which was why I’d never invited him in; it seemed counterproductive, and it was a longer commute for him if he was suddenly needed at the office.

It finally hit me in the middle of preparing dinner that I might have known all that, but Teddy didn’t. We’d been seeing each other fairly regularly since April, when I’d called him from Romania. Now it was August, and the longest time we’d spent together uninterrupted had been a week and a half. The total time I’d spent at my own place during those months amounted to a few days at best.

It hadn’t been just sex, either. I didn’t bother Teddy when he was working, and he appreciated the sounds of another person going about their day in the next room, even if it was just reading or exercise. I got the impression that he found it reassuring. He liked to snuggle on the sofa in the evenings, for some shared reading time, or for me to pet him like a human-sized cat, or, sometimes, to make out with no particular goal in mind. We’d gone out a few times, to places that required dressing up and those that didn’t; he even took me to his local, which was funny because neither of us drank more than a single pint. We’d been cohabitating, quite peacefully, now that I thought of it.

In other words, we were both stumbling in the dark like idiots, but I could work with that.

I had finished all the housework and was stretched out on the sofa with one of the military history books from Teddy’s collection when the key finally turned in the lock. It was past ten; my prediction of a twelve-hour day just because universe was mean like that had come true. I heard Teddy shut the door, put my book down and went to meet him.

He halted just inside the flat, staring. I’d worn an old pair of jeans, washed soft and faded with age, with holes on the knees. They must’ve been hitting some kind of button for Teddy, because his hands tended to wander more than usual whenever I put that particular pair on. He took in my bare feet, my t-shirt (his); the tired, somewhat annoyed expression on his face melted slowly into glorious wonder. I came up to him and held his face between my palms, kissing him; his hands hovered without touching me, so I caught them and put them firmly just below my waist, where he wouldn’t be pressing against bandages.

“Welcome back”, I said against Teddy’s lips, licking at his mouth so he would let me in. He made a noise at the back of his throat and held me closer.

“You hungry?” I asked him, and he shook his head, pressing his mouth to mine for short, light kisses, quick but not chaste. It made my lips tingle and my cock throb. I pulled at him until we fit together from shoulder to knee, my leg sliding between his and my hands settling just below the small of his back. It felt like starting again where we’d left off in the morning, only better; there was nothing reserved about the way Teddy felt against me, the tension in him coming not from any kind of self-doubt but from the heat and hunger between us.

I pulled back, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. He looked - debauched, in the best way: jacket half off his shoulders, his dress shirt rumpled, his cheeks flushed and his lips red from kissing. He was watching me like I was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. His cock was hard and hot against my hip, and I ran a teasing finger up and down the front of his trousers until he shuddered and caught my hand. We were both panting, and he toed off his shoes and threw off his jacket so he could put both arms around me again and walk me backwards towards his bedroom.

In bed, Teddy held me down by the shoulders, mindful of the bandages, and climbed on top. We’d already lost all our clothes on the way. Teddy slicked his fingers and reached behind himself, shuddering. He wouldn’t even let me help, pressing my wrist back to the bed, quick but firm. It didn’t feel like more than a minute before he was rolling a condom onto me and holding me steady for him. He took me in, sliding down slowly and steadily; we were both shaking by the time he’d bottomed out, biting his lip, his eyes half-closed with pleasure. He started moving almost right away, too, impatient, all the way up and grinding when he came down, each thrust pulling a short involuntary moan from the back of his throat. He felt impossibly hot and tight inside; I jerked him off to the mad, quickening rhythm he’d set. There was no way I could last, not like this, and he didn’t seem to want me to. We tumbled over the edge one after the other, although I wouldn’t have been able to say which of us started coming first. Teddy held upright, trembling, just long enough for me catch the edge of the condom and slide out of him, and then collapsed by my side, moaning softly.

He had come all over my chest and stomach, and I couldn’t bring myself to care about it. It felt wonderfully filthy, to be claimed by him that way. I tied off the condom, mopped up the worst of the mess with a corner of the sheet and pulled Teddy close to me, both of us still panting a little.

“I’m sorry about this morning”, Teddy said when we caught our breath. He was warm and languid with exertion, his nose pressed to my shoulder. I turned my head and kissed the scar on his cheek, lightly.

“Don’t be”, I said, kissing the tip of his nose, the corner of his lips. “It’s just a scratch, but I would have worried, too, if it was you”.

Teddy opened one eye to glare at me. The effect was ruined when my lips found a place at the corner of his jaw that made him shiver and moan. “Your definition is too broad”, he said. His cock did its best to come back to life against my thigh, but couldn’t quite manage it. “You seem to think - ah! - that everything that doesn’t take the limb clean off is a scratch. That’s not how it works”.

I ran my hand up and down his flank, steady and firm enough not to tickle, and he relaxed against me.

“Are you off tomorrow?” I asked at length. 

“Should be”, Teddy said. “Why?”

“I was thinking we could go over to mine”, I said, and he twitched in surprise. “It’s not as comfortable as yours, and it must be dusty as hell, but, you know, I do have a bed. And a kitchen table. Not that I’d recommend them for any kind of acrobatics, but…”

Teddy put a finger against my mouth, halting the ramblings.

“Nick,” he whispered, and then didn’t seem to know what to say.

“I’ve been coming straight to yours from the airport for the last four months”, I said, against his fingers, and he twitched again. “I’m sorry about scaring you. I got used to being patched up quickly and dealing with the rest of it on my own. But I - don’t want to. Stay alone. If you’ll have me”.

He answered by kissing me, but I was completely fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also available [on Tumblr](http://beili.tumblr.com/post/158987552516/jack-of-spades-snippet-kissing-scars-she-says)


	7. In which Katya learns about Teddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to keep your long-term committed relationship from colleagues isn’t easy (set sometime after the in-story “omg we’re boyfriends now!“ moment).

Katya finding out was only mostly an accident, but in my defense, he walked into that one.

We’d been sleeping - Teddy had been writing at night again, and I had dragged myself from the airport and into his apartment at an ungodly hour of four am. He’d opened the door for me, bleary-looking and tired, and I had stumbled over the threshold and put my face into the junction of his neck and shoulder. He didn’t even squirm at the prickle of my week-old stubble, just put a hand on the back of my head, reassuring. That had been the end of any and all work on his part, not that he didn’t look as exhausted as I felt.

We were woken up two hours later by the phone ringing - the landline, which was unusual. Teddy growled and fumbled for the light, then shuffled out of bed to pick it up.

“Yes?” he said into the receiver, his eyes still mostly closed. As I watched, his eyebrows rose and his eyes opened; he said, “A minute, please”, and put the phone into my hands.

I thought I knew who it might have been, which should’ve made me more worried; but I was still at least ninety percent asleep.

“Yes”, I said, in English, just to mess with them a little more.

“Kolya”, Katya said on the other side, “why the fuck is another man answering your phone?”

Had I been alone and a little less sleep-deprived, I might’ve had something more intelligent to say. But Teddy was watching me, making no move to either get dressed or lie back down, and I was still too tired to deal with any bullshit.

“Because it is his phone and his apartment”, I said, matter of fact. There was a long pause on the other side.

Teddy’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and I covered the mouthpiece with a hand and said, not really trying to keep my voice down, “Come back to bed”.

“In a moment”, he said and shuffled into the kitchen, still entirely naked; I watched appreciatively while I waited for Katya to come to the obvious conclusion.

“Are you alright?” Katya said, suspicious. Not so obvious, then. “Why did you leave this number, if it’s some other dude’s place?”

“I’m fine”, I said, “and I distinctly remember leaving it for emergencies only”.

Katya huffed. “Well, your actual phone was off”.

I checked - dead battery, how appropriate - and he said, “Anyway, why are you at another man’s place in the middle of the night?”

Teddy had come back with a glass of water, and I pulled the bed covers back in invitation. He put the glass on the nightstand and slid into the bed, settling against me with a sigh. I ruffled his hair, and he sighed again and put his head on my shoulder. By now I had a pretty good idea that there was no real emergency; Katya must’ve annoyed Ahmed enough that he just handed over this number, to mess with him a bit. I could work with that.

“Katya”, I said, “why do you _think_?”

“Well, I don’t know”, he said, and Teddy, who could hear almost everything, this close, rolled his eyes. “You tell me”.

Like I said: he walked into this one.

“Katya”, I said, “when birds and bees love each other very much…”

Teddy started shaking with silent laughter. There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

“Anyway”, I said, before the silence could become ominous, “was there any kind of emergency, or is it just you and Ahmed screwing with me?”

“…I’ll call you back later”, Katya said, “plug in your damn phone or whatever”, and hung up.

-

When I turned my mobile on at a much more reasonable hour, there was a text from Ahmed.

 _I think you broke Katya_ , it read, in code, _A+ job, man_.

 _He brought it on himself_ , I wrote back.

 _You did what Mossad couldn’t do_ , Ahmed replied. _He’s been quiet ever since. It’s a miracle. I can actually work now._

 _Glad to be of service_ , I wrote. _And he’s forty years old, for pity’s sake, it’s not like he didn’t know. He can deal._

 _You are a cruel man_ , Ahmed said. The code did not allow for emoticons, but if it were regular texting, there would’ve been a smiley face. _He’s spent half his life absolutely sure evil gays were out to get him, and now it turns out they find their own boyfriends without bothering with his straight ass at all. Might take awhile to get used to._

 _Whatever_ , I wrote, _this evil gay is going to live like a normal human being for a bit. Unless it’s an actual emergency, I’ll see all of you next month. He can save his panic until then._

 _Cruel_ , Ahmed replied, and after that, nothing more. Kids these days.

-

“Your colleague?” Teddy asked. He’d gone back to his article, which was still half-written, but his heart was clearly not in it. The kitchen table had been taken over by an avalanche of papers. I moved a small snowdrift enough to put down my cup of coffee.

“The other one”, I said. “The first one is apparently too broken”.

“You’re not in trouble?” Teddy said, with a tiny smile. I could take on a lot of trouble for that smile.

“It hasn’t been illegal in my country for more than thirty years now”, I said. “And I don’t live to spare his feelings”.

Teddy shook his head, but he was still smiling.

“Breakfast in bed?” he said.

“Breakfast, then bed”, I said, “you know the rule about toast crumbs”.

“You’re a tyrant”, Teddy said, mock-seriously. “The toast liberation movement is out to get you”.

“They can bring up their complaints during office hours”, I said, and leaned in to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also available [on Tumblr](http://beili.tumblr.com/post/159250643808/jack-of-spades-snippet-trying-to-keep-your)


	8. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Teddy’s turn to get himself in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime during year three. Warnings: hurt/comfort, minor injuries, brief mentions of past violence (not related to main characters).

I came over to Teddy’s after three weeks in Frankfurt - the less said about it, the better - only to find that he hadn’t made it home yet. There was little point in going back to mine: it was equally lonely and quiet. Calling would just have been an unnecessary distraction. I spent some time tidying up, not that Teddy’s flat particularly needed it, if you didn’t count folding laundry. An entire day had gone into writing up my AARs, one for Boss and one, with a considerably sanitized version of events, for HQ. That had been Wednesday; by Sunday, I could understand Teddy’s desire to climb the walls when he had nothing to distract him.

On Monday, around midnight, I opened my eyes to the sound of key turning in the lock. I contemplated pretending to be asleep - Teddy, on occasion, had the most delightful reaction to finding me in his bed - but there was a muffled _dammit_ , and I really didn’t like the sound of that. 

I found Teddy in the hallway, leaning against the door with his eyes closed. His bag was at his feet; he hadn’t even made it past unbuttoning his overcoat.

I turned the lights on, and Teddy winced without opening his eyes. He looked like a stiff breeze would bowl him over. There were a healing shallow scratch near his hairline and dark circles under his eyes. I couldn’t see anything under the heavy coat, but the way he held himself was telling.

“Teddy,” I said, and he winced again, “what happened?”

“Nick,” he said, “turn the lights off, please.”

I clicked off the overheads and turned on the light in the bathroom so I could at least see if he was bleeding anywhere. He didn’t put up a fight when I carefully divested him of his coat and scarf, but kept his eyes closed.

“Hey,” I said, quietly, “Teddy, look at me.”

He opened his eyes, blinked, and winced again, but did as I asked. I couldn’t quite see if his eyes were bloodshot, but they focused on me readily enough.

“Are you drunk?” I asked. It was highly unlikely - Teddy’s dislike of drink rises in proportion to its alcohol content - but not entirely impossible.

The corner of Teddy’s mouth twisted up, humourless. “I’m sober,” he said. “Unfortunately.”

I kneeled to help him take off his shoes, and he leaned on my shoulder with a sigh. Taking off his sweater took a bit of maneuvering; I stared at the darkening bruises on his chest and arms.

“Okay,” I said, and it came out a lot calmer than I felt. “Three questions. Is anything broken? Did you hit your head? And did you take all of these standing up?”

“Do you know, they teach you in j-school to not ask more than one question at a time,” Teddy said, trying for lighthearted, but it came with another wince. “The person being interviewed might forget to answer or choose to ignore what you’re asking.”

“I don’t mind repeating, if you need me to,” I said, steering him towards the kitchen and sitting him down in his usual chair.

“That would be a no, I don’t think, and there was a fair bit of rolling involved,” Teddy said, leaning back against the wall.

“Is that first no based on medical observation?” I asked, and for a moment, Teddy looked exasperated.

“Yes,” he said. “Stephens has a broken arm, of course we found someone to look us over.”

Stephens was his usual photo correspondent in the last two years. I made sure Teddy wasn’t going to fall out of the chair, slipped into the bathroom and started filling the bathtub. “When did this happen?”

“Two days ago,” Teddy said.

When I came back, his eyes were closed again. I put my hands on his knees, carefully, and he jerked, startled.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get you in the bath. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

“Any excuse to get me naked?” Teddy asked, the hint of the usual humour in his voice. It took a moment for him to concentrate on standing up.

In the bathroom, I helped him out of his trousers and underwear. He had an impressive bruise starting to blossom on the outside of his right thigh, a couple smaller ones on his back, but none in the immediately life-threading areas. The size of the marks wasn’t consistent either.

The sound Teddy made when he slid fully into the water was something between a sigh and groan. I only left the light in the hallway on, which didn’t seem to bother him, and sat by the side of the tub so our faces were mostly level.

“Can you tell me what happened?” I asked.

Teddy looked at me from under his lashes. The shadows under his eyes seemed deeper and darker in the low light.

“This is going to sound stupid,” he said, “but me and Stephens accidentally fell into an abandoned basement.”

He didn’t seem to want my hands on his head or face, before; I touched the edge of his jaw, now, and he turned into it.

“Stupid, no,” I said. “A bit out of character, yes. Are these,” I nodded at the bruises, “the result of you breaking Stephens’ fall, then?”

“Argh, no,” Teddy said. “You’ve never met Stephens, have you? I don’t think I’d be talking to you now if he’d landed on me - he’s about three times my size.”

He relaxed, slowly, sore muscles unwinding, as hot water did its work. I ended up leaning in, my arm on the edge of the tub, and Teddy splashed a little and curled closer, pressing his face into my upper arm. It was awkward, but he at least seemed comfortable enough.

“What were you working on?” I asked. I knew he’d been to Ukraine again; he had contacts there, he was getting passable at Russian and made an effort to learn some Ukrainian, and his gently curious manner and good humour appealed to people who wouldn’t otherwise talk to anyone. It was no wonder Marjorie kept sending him there.

The tiny smile that had appeared on his face before abruptly vanished. “Mass graves,” he said. “You know, post-war stuff. The most recent one, I mean.”

It all came out, eventually: on the second-to-last day, his local contact asked them if they wanted to see a place that allegedly used to have missiles in it, once. It was just outside the tiny village they stopped in on the way back to Kiev, and there were obviously no actual missiles, but it made for a good anecdote to end an otherwise grim story, so Teddy said why not.

I had asked about their guide, before their little trip, but he appeared to be rather harmless: a local activist with an interest in modern history and burials, not connected to anyone particularly dangerous. He took them to the mine shaft itself, which, in Teddy’s words, looked creepy enough to make Stephens very happy about the photos he was going to take. Teddy himself steered clear of it and went to check out an abandoned building nearby.

“I have no idea why he wanted more dramatic pictures,” Teddy said. “He sure got enough of them on this trip.”

Nonetheless, Stephens made him step inside the ruins to take a couple more shots. He’d come closer at some point to get the view in Teddy’s line of sight when the floor under them suddenly wobbled, and they both went down.

“It was a trapdoor to the basement, or something,” Teddy said. “Covered with some rubble, so we didn’t notice it had rotted enough to not be able to hold us both, especially not a big guy like him. And then, bam, we’re about a floor below ground, it’s dark as pitch, everything hurts, and that prick Stephens goes, ‘Sorry, Graham, but could you get off me? I’m afraid I don’t like you in that way’.”

I snorted, despite myself, and he opened one eye and glared at me.

“You laugh now,” Teddy said, “but that was not the worst part. First, it turned out that Stephens had landed on his camera and broke his arm, which would not have sucked as much if we could find a proper way back to the ground level. And then, I tried to light it up a little with my phone, which somehow didn’t break in the fall, and there were. Bodies.”

He shivered, and I got him up and out of the bath, bundled up in the fluffiest towel I could find. The water was getting cold, anyway.

“It was bones, for the most part,” Teddy said while I toweled his hair dry. “I’m not an expert, obviously, but I had seen enough dead on this one. Decades old? Not from the last conflict, that’s for sure.”

Their guide was just about losing his shit at that point. To his credit, he found a proper basement door when it became clear that they couldn’t climb up the way they fell in, and got to work opening it for them. By Teddy’s count, their underground adventure took forty minutes at the most, but it certainly felt longer.

He wanted to inform the authorities, but was at a loss on how to do it properly. The guide wasn’t much help.

“He was talking very fast,” Teddy said. “You know I’m bad enough at Russian; he switched into Ukrainian halfway through, and I barely got one word out of ten.” The takeaway was that the guide would find someone to inform himself; Stephens had needed medical help, so they got on that first, and then it was time to go, or they would have missed their flight.

“Did you take any photos?” I asked Teddy, when he was dressed in pyjamas and sprawled on the bed, the worst of his bruises and scrapes attended to. I sat by his side, in the cool half-dark of his bedroom, and he tugged me closer until we were both under the covers.

“I did,” he said, shivering again. “Not sure what would be visible, though. The phone light is not particularly strong.”

I put my arms around him, and he curled into me, his face tucked into my neck, and eventually slept. I stayed awake and texted Ahmed.

_Is Fridman in Lviv still looking into that mass burial thing?_

It was early rather than late in Moscow, but Ahmed replied quickly.

_Yes, I think he is. Why, and why are you not sleeping?_

_He’ll find this one interesting,_ I said, and texted him the name of the village and the general whereabouts of the mine shaft and the building. _Might be some relic of the 90s, gang violence or something like that._

_Your journalist again?_ Ahmed said. _Wouldn’t he want to put it in the story?_

_He wanted them to be processed properly,_ I wrote back, _but couldn’t find anyone to do it. Too little time. At least Fridman has a shot at getting them identified. That’ll take a while. The story would be out by then._

_I’ll see what I can do,_ Ahmed said. _Now_ sleep, _you’re bad enough when you’re working._

_Yes, mom,_ I said. Ahmed’s reply was an unintelligible mash of letters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also available [on Tumblr](http://beili.tumblr.com/post/159537466736/jack-of-spades-snippet-its-teddys-turn-to-get#notes).


	9. Blanket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: brief mention of a canonical death of a relative. Otherwise, unrepentant domestic fluff.

It's July when Nick finally gets to the hall closet. 

He's been trying to find a job for what must feel like ages, to him, to no avail; so he throws himself at household repairs like it's going out of style. He's always been enthusiastic about fixing things, but this, Teddy reflects, is a new level. It seems Nick wants to see how much he can do without sliding into an outright renovation. Teddy's not sure how he feels about it, but keeping busy makes Nick happier, so he lets it go. 

Nick goes through everything inside the closet, taking out several boxes Teddy has never opened. It's mostly things Nick doesn't use often, and he goes through them with a critical eye. 

Then he finds the blanket. 

-

Teddy still remembers the blanket's first appearance, years ago. It's their first winter together - still November, technically, but unusually cold. Teddy has resorted to wearing a thick sweater and woolen socks at home, something he hadn't had to do since he was ten and still living in Switzerland with his parents. Nick has shivered through the night despite the covers, a set of flannel pajamas and Teddy's arm around him. He spends the morning texting with great determination, then kisses Teddy on the cheek and disappears, only to return late in the evening with a big bundle under his arm. 

"Here," Nick says to Teddy, who is wearing a pair of flannel pajamas, thick socks, a sweater, and, he suspects, a very puzzled expression, "I like actually being warm in winter," and removes the plastic bag to reveal a large blanket.

It comes in an old, somewhat threadbare pillowcase with a delicate bit of embroidery in one corner. Teddy fingers it absently when Nick puts the pillowcase into his hands, the subtly raised whitework design like Morse code under his fingertips. 

The blanket itself is thick, felted wool with a red and black abstract pattern. There's a small round hole on the left side, patched inexpertly but thoroughly with non-matching thread. It looks a little like a cigarette burn. 

"Soldering iron," Nick says, following Teddy's look. "It's got me through the university and a couple of chest colds."

"It's - very nice," Teddy says, still a little dubious. The blanket is not quite large enough to cover the whole bed when Nick unfolds it completely, but it reaches the edges on either side; all the more reason to snuggle underneath, Teddy thinks. It'll have to do. 

"It used to be my brother's," Nick says, which, by Teddy's reckoning, is the first indication he didn't just spring to life fully formed.

"He didn't want it?" Teddy asks. 

"He's dead," Nick answers, simply. He's looking at his hands, knuckles still a bit pink with cold, curled around the black-and-red corners. "KIA. Dead people usually don't want things."

Teddy opens his mouth to say, _I'm sorry_ , but Nick glances at him quickly, a subtle warning in his expression, and Teddy bites down on the words. So Nick has lost his brother and doesn't want the sympathy; Teddy isn't going to make him more miserable by shoving it in his face. 

"No matter what popular fiction would have us believe," he says instead, and the corners of Nick's mouth twitch up. 

"Well," he says, after sandwiching the blanket between the top sheet and Teddy's duvet, "what do you say we try this? Should be quite warm."

Teddy feels a little dubious, still, but even as the weight of the covers settles over him, he can tell the difference. The blanket lets their body heat build up without becoming oppressive, creating a pocket of comfortable warmth. 

"You might want to lose the sweater," Nick says, so Teddy does. Nick's hand sneaks under his shirt, resting over his sternum, and Teddy doesn't even care that it's barely eleven and there are other things they could be doing; he's out like a light in what feels like moments. 

-

Nearly seven years later, Nick has taken off his shirt to account for an overly warm July day. He's unfolding the blanket again on the balcony of the flat that has become theirs, humming to himself a little as he spreads it on the clothesline to air out. Teddy ambushes him on the other side with a glass of iced tea and a kiss, and Nick jerks and laughs into his mouth when Teddy's cold palm presses into his side, over the old scars that stand out in white against his sun-darkened skin. Nick looks so much better now, and it takes Teddy's breath away, that they can have this, that Nick is here with him, and they kiss again, more slowly, the blanket scratching lightly at their elbows as it sways. After a few days, it goes back inside its pillowcase and into the closet.

Teddy takes it out himself the next time there's a dramatic temperature drop in the evening. It may not be entirely necessary, but the cold bothers Nick more, now. Nick himself is in the shower; he comes out to find Teddy already curled underneath the blanket sandwich, reading a book. Nick slides under the covers as Teddy turns off the light, and Teddy knows exactly when he the realization hits him: Nick's arm curls tightly around Teddy's waist, and his face presses into Teddy's shoulder. Teddy holds on to him, just as tightly, and kisses his temple. Nick's hand sneaks under Teddy's shirt and settles over his heart. Nick doesn't say anything, but then, he doesn't have to: Teddy feels exactly the same.


	10. Gloves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An episode during the boys' first year together: sexual preferences are negotiated, with mixed results, and glove kink makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: non-graphic depiction of PTSD, kink negotiation, mild hurt/comfort, too many references to sex, some domestic fluff, graphic depictions of sex, glove kink. NSFW.  
> My eternal gratitude to Val Mora for advice and encouragement, and to everyone on tumblr who said they wanted this one to exist! Y'all are the awesomest. Please enjoy my offering of filthy porn with feelings.

Their first winter together is unusually cold.

Teddy would normally have coped by getting an assignment somewhere more pleasant, or at least with better heating. But Nick is finally back in London, they haven’t seen each other for a full month, and he very much doubts Nick’s tiny matchbox of a flat is comfortable in any weather, least of all during a particularly terrible, uncharacteristically snowy November. At least at Teddy’s, they can snuggle to keep each other warm. 

Nick sounds exhausted on the phone, and looks even more exhausted in person, standing just inside the door in a thick coat with a raised collar, snow melting off his shoulders and boots, a travel bag in one hand. He still hasn’t taken off his gloves. Teddy rids him of the bag, locks the door, opens the coat button by button and puts his arms under it and around Nick’s waist. The coat collar is made of fake fur, soft against his face, a contrast to Nick’s cold, unshaven cheek. Nick folds the coat around Teddy, one gloved hand cradling the back of his head, and kisses him hello, all prickly stubble and soft lips, and oh, Teddy has missed this so much. 

“Thawed out a little?” he asks, letting Nick go and tugging off his gloves. Nick shakes off the coat and pulls him in again, warmed-up hands on Teddy’s face, until Teddy’s lips tingle from his kisses. 

“Yes,” Nick says, and, “thank you,” and, “I drove all the way back from Munich because the airports are on the blink.”

Teddy can’t ask him why Munich, but he can put on some tea and heat up dinner while Nick washes the road off himself; he can fold them together under the covers and listen to Nick’s breathing even out, finally warm in the circle of Nick’s arms for the first time in what feels like a small eternity.

-

It takes Nick a couple of days to bounce back to normal. Teddy has to drag himself out of bed in the morning to go to work through sheer force of will. He wants more than anything to call in sick and just stay in bed, with the flurry of snow outside and Nick’s breath on the back of his neck. His stories aren’t going to write themselves, though, and he thinks Nick might have a better time resting when no one is creeping around him for the better part of the day. 

He leaves early and comes home late, and when he walks into the flat well after ten on a Friday night, two consecutive articles finished and submitted to Marjorie’s judgement, Nick is waiting for him. He’s not so much pretending to be asleep as lying quietly in the dark until Teddy slides under the covers. Then his arms are around Teddy. Their mouths meet by touch. 

They don’t get much sleep that night, and doze through the morning, snuggled together, still a bit sticky. Nick’s hair is a crow’s nest; there’s a pink bite mark where his neck meets shoulder. Teddy feels too happy and fucked out to bother with anything but revelling in their closeness. 

-

“I wanted to ask you something,” Teddy says, that evening. They have curled up under the covers again, darkness outside pushed away by the circle of light from the bedside lamp. “There are things both of us won’t do in bed; maybe we could let each other know what they are.”

“Are we talking hard limits?” Nick asks, looking a bit sceptical. “Or is it situational stuff?”

“It’s not about making a checklist,” Teddy says. “But there are things you don’t like, and I don’t want to accidentally stumble into making it bad for you when it was supposed to be good.”

Nick still doesn’t look entirely convinced. 

“I’ll start,” Teddy says. “That thing you really like where you ask me to fuck you the second time right after the first? I’d never be able to take it.” He draws a meaningless pattern on the back of Nick’s hand. “Too sensitive.”

It makes the corner of Nick’s mouth turn up. 

“That’s just how I’m wired,” he says. “It doesn’t happen every time.”

“Six times out of ten,” Teddy says, philosophically, and Nick smiles. 

“You enjoy it,” he says, leaning in to brush his lips against Teddy’s. 

“Even more so because you do,” Teddy says. “See, that was easy,” he tugs Nick a little closer. Nick sighs and rubs the tip of his nose against Teddy’s shoulder, and they spend some time in silence, just listening to each other’s breathing. 

“I don’t like crumbs in bed,” Nick says, a smile in his voice. Teddy snorts: that’s an understatement if he’s ever heard one. 

“No argument here,” he says. Nick’s hair is soft between his fingers; Nick sighs quietly, says nothing. Teddy waits him out. 

“Don’t hold me down unless I ask you to,” Nick says finally. He pauses, thinking. “Never pin me down by the arms. Some people like handcuffs or other restraints - I don’t.” There’s tension in him that hasn’t been there before, and Teddy begins to wonder if it was a good idea to even start this conversation. 

“I could just ask you to hold on to something and not touch yourself,” he says quietly into Nick’s ear, because it worked really well the last time they’d tried that; some tension goes out of Nick. 

“You could,” he says, and stops there. It’s not the end - he hasn’t relaxed - but his words seem to have run out. Teddy thinks they might need something to keep talking - another ice-breaker, maybe. 

“I don’t like being slapped,” he says. Nick turns to him, brows drawn together. “It’s okay. It only happened once. Didn’t work out all that well.”

“Face?” Nick asks, still looking like he’s about to demand the names and the dates and go on a revenge spree. Teddy rubs a thumb over his forehead, gently. 

“Face, or otherwise,” he says. Nick huffs, leaning closer. 

“I don’t like fetish gear,” he says, at length. “Clamps, chastity devices, restraints, gags, blindfolds - you name it.” He doesn’t look at Teddy, and the tension is back - his heartbeat picks up. Teddy realizes with a start that Nick’s trying to control his breathing. “It reminds me of - things. That I’d rather not think about.” His heart is rabbiting under Teddy’s palm, and all Teddy can think of is, _oh shit_. “I don’t like pain,” Nick says, so quietly that Teddy barely catches it. “Excuse me.”

And just like that, he’s gone - from under Teddy’s arm, turned nerveless with dread, up and out of the room, in a quick patter of bare feet. Teddy stares at the ceiling for a long moment, mind gone completely blank; this wasn’t how he’d imagined their conversation going. It’s one thing to be reminded of some instances of bad sex, for the sake of not accidentally repeating them, and another one entirely to trigger what looks an awful lot like a PTSD response in one’s lover. 

He really should have guessed - _I don’t like pain_ , Nick has said, and no goddamn wonder, considering how they met, the state Nick was in when he first came over to Teddy’s in April. Fuck, Teddy thinks, he’s such an idiot.

Then he realizes Nick has gone straight to the balcony. Shit. 

The thought sends Teddy jerking out of bed. He grabs the blanket, wrapping it around himself to keep it warm. The flat is cool at best during winter; in this weather, everything not in the immediate vicinity of the burning stove is straight out frigid. The balcony is insulated, of course, but there’s a sliding door separating it from the bedroom, and the radiators are barely keeping up. It must be freezing, and Nick is out there wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Fuck. 

Nick doesn’t seem to notice the cold. He’s standing in the inky darkness with his forehead pressed to the glass, eyes half-closed. He doesn’t turn when Teddy steps up next to him. 

“Nick,” Teddy says softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t start this conversation to hurt you.” Nick doesn’t acknowledge him, and _bloody hell_ , the floor is icy. Teddy’s not sure he’ll still feel his feet if they keep standing there for much longer. 

“I brought you a blanket,” Teddy says. “I’m going to put it over you now.” His breath catches when he takes it off and drapes it quickly over Nick’s shoulders, pulling the edges together to keep some warmth in. Nick blinks, stirring. “Please don’t keep standing here,” Teddy says, trying and failing to suppress a shudder. “You’ll catch your death.” He doesn’t want to touch Nick without permission when he’s already made things terrible, but he needs to get them both back to the room, so he risks putting his hand on Nick’s shoulder, briefly. Nick’s head turns to him. “Please don’t stay here. I’ll give you as much space as you need, but please, come back inside.” He shudders again. 

Nick blinks, once, twice, like he’s waking up, blanket slipping a little to show a triangle of bare skin. “Teddy,” he says, sounding surprised, and seems to come back to his senses. “What are you,” he says, taking in the darkness around them, the patch of pale light on the floor across Teddy’s bare feet, his naked chest, the freezing air, then, “ _Christ_.” And then he catches Teddy around the waist and pulls them both back into the room, shutting the sliding door with a click, and _thank fucking god_ Teddy doesn’t believe in, because he’s not sure how both of them still have toes. Nick bundles him up in the blanket, all frantic hands and a worried expression, and sits him down in the middle of the bed, throwing an afghan around Teddy’s feet and tucking it in. 

“Teddy,” he says, “what were you thinking?”

“Couldn’t let you just stand there and freeze to death,” Teddy says through his chattering teeth, struggling with the blanket cocoon, even as some warmth starts seeping back into his extremities. “Come on, Nick, you need this more than me.”

“Hang on a minute,” Nick says, and disappears into the kitchen. There’s a sound of his muffled cursing, then the kettle clicks on. He reappears in a minute and a half, two steaming mugs in his hands. He puts them on the nightstand, perches on the edge of the bed, guilt written across his face, and Teddy can’t take it anymore. He finally finds the edge of the blanket, lifts it and tugs at Nick until both of them are huddled together in the feeble pocket of warmth made by rumbled bedclothes, shivering. 

“Come here,” Teddy is saying, “dammit, you’re an icicle,” even as Nick says, “Fuck, Teddy, what were you thinking?” 

Teddy takes a deep breath. 

“I hurt you,” he says, and Nick frowns. “I’m sorry. I should’ve realized it would be a very difficult conversation. And maybe it was wrong to not give you more space, but you were standing out there, all but naked, and it’s too cold for that. I couldn’t just leave you to freeze.” 

They stare at each other for several endless seconds, then Nick pulls him in, catches one of Teddy’s hands and brushes a kiss to the center of his palm, holds it to his own cheek. “I can take it,” he says, his face pressed against Teddy’s fingers, “that wasn’t very cold.” He folds Teddy into a tight hug, rubs at his shoulders and back; Teddy clings to him. “I’m sorry for flipping out on you,” Nick says quietly. “I can’t guarantee it’s not going to happen again.” His hand pauses between Teddy’s shoulder blades, and Teddy pulls back a little to look at him. “If it does, please put on something warm first before going after me, okay? I can handle a bit of cold, but I’d hate for you to get sick because of standing there and freezing when I failed to snap out of it on time.” He brushes a thumb up and down Teddy’s cheek. Teddy leans in to kiss him, quick and close-mouthed.

“Okay,” he says. Something is digging into the small of his back. “Let’s get this mess straightened up?”

They shake out the blanket and tuck in the rumpled sheet, then sit in bed together, sipping their tea. Nick finishes his first, and leans in carefully, so Teddy pulls him in until Nick is pressed up against his side, head resting on Teddy’s shoulder. 

“I’m not used to talking about it like this,” Nick says softly. Teddy makes an encouraging sound. “Usually when someone wants to know your vulnerability, they mean to use it against you.” 

It figures, Teddy thinks, putting his mug on the nightstand to wrap both arms around Nick. 

“I wouldn’t,” he says, and Nick’s arm around him tightens.

“I know that now,” Nick says. “I think I’ve known that before, too. It’s a difficult thought to shake off.”

He’s petting Teddy’s side, absently. Teddy thinks he might have an idea they both could get behind, but it’s going to take some planning and a lot of time. 

“If I suggest something later,” he says, “just for your consideration, will you hear me out?”

Nick smiles up at him, soft and fond. “Of course,” he says. “Does it shoot an electric current through someone?”

“ _No_ ,” Teddy says, emphatically, and if Nick can still joke about being electrocuted, hell, Teddy owes him one. “Only figuratively speaking.”

“Mmm,” Nick says, closes his eyes. “Definitely worth talking about later, then.”

-

They don’t talk about it for a good while. 

The next week is spent arguing over revisions with Marjorie and following up on a new lead in yet another long-term investigation. The weekend passes in a blur, with Teddy writing and doing sets of push-ups in the kitchen just to keep warm. Nick hides his amusement behind a book, something about the development of rocket fuel, and doesn’t mention anything sex-related until days later, when the first installment of the series Teddy’s been working on finally goes live. They celebrate by getting Nick fucked just the way he likes it, slow and deep, almost to incoherence, first on Teddy’s fingers, then on his cock. Teddy comes for the second time against the taut muscle of Nick’s stomach, shaking and moaning with overstimulation. They kiss lazily through the afterglow and nearly get glued together by the mess of come between them. Nick’s happy smile the first thing Teddy sees in the morning, and everything returns to normal after that. 

If Teddy sometimes comes home and presses his face to the thick, soft collar of Nick’s coat, fingering the seam of a glove in its pocket, neither of them mentions it. He’s not ready to say anything, and Nick doesn’t push him. 

-

Teddy finally works up the nerve by the middle of December. The weather has mellowed out a little, snow still falling heavily in the mornings. It mostly doesn’t stick. The flat feels warmer now, cozier, with both of their clothes in the wardrobe and the dresser, Nick’s razor and toothbrush in the bathroom, the books he’s reading in a neat stack next to Teddy’s laptop on the coffee table. 

Teddy calls Nick late one evening to pick him up after work because he’s spent three consecutive days at the office and doesn’t trust himself to not fall asleep on the way home. Nick shows up in a taxi, a miracle all by itself at this hour, and drives them home in Teddy’s car. Teddy knows half the office is watching as Nick kisses him hello outside and opens the passenger door for him. It’s going to be one hell of a gossip, but Teddy can’t bring himself to care, not with Nick’s gloved hands steady on the wheel, the car moving so smoothly it feels like an extension of Nick’s body. Teddy spends the entire ride watching Nick’s hands and trying not to succumb to the siren call of sleep: the lift is out of service again, and it would be unfair to make Nick drag him up the stairs, too. Nick’s hand rests around his waist as they walk up to the flat; Teddy leans into it and resolves to say something about his idea as soon as he is coherent enough to explain it.

-

Waiting for the next day to wind down is a torture. Teddy decides to talk to Nick in the evening; it feels somehow more appropriate, whatever the reaction is going to be. Nick must sense something, though, because he puts on his old torn jeans that drive Teddy to distraction and a soft thick sweater that’s no longer fit to be worn in polite company. Teddy wants to spread him out on the sofa and touch him everywhere while Nick writhes and moans and curses him for not putting his hands and mouth and cock where it counts, and that’s a thought worth revisiting later. For now, Teddy retaliates by dropping things and bending at the waist to pick them up so that Nick gets a perfect view of his bum every time. Nick’s eyes, when Teddy catches him looking, are glittering with mischief, and yeah, this is definitely the day to ask your boyfriend to try something neither of you has done before. 

Nick is the one to make the first move. He’s cooked dinner, so Teddy is doing the washing. Nick corners him by the sink, hands slipping into sudsy water to caress Teddy’s wrists, then his knuckles. It puts his arms around Teddy’s waist and presses their hips flush together, and Teddy is happy to let Nick kiss his ear, the junction of his neck and shoulder, his nape. Damn the remaining dishes, Teddy thinks; he’ll finish them in the morning. He dries his hands and turns, licking into Nick’s mouth. 

“I have something for you,” Teddy says into Nick’s ear when both of them are breathing hard from kissing. Nick holds him tightly for a moment, then lets go. Teddy ducks under his arm to dig in the hall closet where he’d hid the present. 

It’s a small parcel, wrapped in brown tissue paper. Nick raises an eyebrow but says nothing while he unwraps it. 

Inside is a pair of leather gloves, soft and supple, that fit Nick’s hands perfectly as he tries them on. Nick flexes his fingers, testing the dexterity. Teddy swallows. 

“These are very, very nice,” Nick says. “Thank you. But why?”

“I figured you wouldn’t want to do this with your regular pair,” Teddy says, then brings one of Nick’s hands to his face, rubbing his cheek against the palm. 

The leather is cool at first, warming where his skin touches it. When Teddy looks, Nick’s eyes are dark. Nick’s thumb rubs gently under Teddy’s eye, down his cheek and over his lips; when Teddy opens his mouth and catches the tip between his teeth, Nick draws in a startled breath. Teddy lets him go, licks quickly at the pad, the taste both unfamiliar and exciting, and then Nick is holding his face between his hands and kissing him, and that, that’s good too. That’s fantastic. 

“I have to say, I’m surprised,” Nick says softly when they come up for air. His gloved hands rest on Teddy’s shoulders, brush down his chest, come around to settle over his shoulder blades. “It’s not exactly what I was thinking, based on today’s performance.”

Teddy has finally given in to the urge to rub at Nick’s arms and down his back through the shapeless, sinfully soft sweater. “Liked that, did you?” he says, only a little smug. Nick’s jeans are perfectly tight across his bum, and there’s a new tear developing at the crease; Teddy has spent the better part of the day wanting to slip his fingers inside it, to pet at the soft skin where the buttock meets thigh. There’s no reason he can’t, now, so he does. Nick arches into him, pressing them together with his gloved hands tight on Teddy’s hips, sighs into his mouth. 

“What do you want me to do?” Nick asks. 

“I want you to fuck me in these gloves,” Teddy says, watching him closely. He catches one of Nick’s hands, laces their fingers together. “I don’t want them inside me. I just want you to wear them while you touch me. Make me come on your cock while you hold me.” He hopes he hasn’t overstepped, but Nick doesn’t seem angry, or frightened, or having any kind of adverse reaction. “Is that okay?”

Nick smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and holds Teddy’s chin with one hand so he can bring their lips together, light and teasing. 

“Yeah,” he says. “But if you don’t want them completely ruined, you’ll have to do some of the work yourself.”

-

In the bedroom, Nick waits while Teddy pulls off his jumper, t-shirt, and sweatpants, then pushes him gently to lie down. One gloved hand caresses his cheek while the other brushes slowly down his arm and back up. Teddy turns his head to bite at Nick’s thumb, again, slow and deliberate.

Nick starts by mapping out Teddy’s shoulders, his chest, tweaking his nipples until they are tiny pink nubs, then presses his gloved thumbs to them and makes tight half circles, back and forth. Soft leather catches on skin, a hot and sudden pang of delicious friction. Teddy arches into it, makes a sound, and then the pinching fingers are gone, replaced by Nick’s lips and tongue, first on one side, then on the other. Nick mouths around the areola, scrapes it lightly with his teeth, winds Teddy up with tiny quick licks to his sensitized nipples. Then his gloved fingers are back, pinching and rubbing. Saliva is too quick to dry, though, and before Teddy knows it, the burning pull of leather is back. It goes straight to Teddy’s cock, already half hard. 

Nick works him over like that, gloved hands sliding down Teddy’s rib cage while he kisses Teddy’s neck and shoulders and chest, then back up again to pinch and tug, until Teddy grabs for his head, pushes him down by the shoulders. 

Nick can’t quite hide his smile - he loves teasing Teddy, loves it when Teddy wants him so much he forgets how to form proper sentences and has to work to use his words. He catches Teddy’s eye, then rubs his knuckles gently up and down Teddy’s hard cock through the underwear, drawing a moan out of them both. He pulls Teddy’s knees open to settle between them, slides one finger from Teddy’s perineum all the way up over his hard-on to where a small wet spot has appeared. Teddy watches Nick circle it with one finger, then frame the bulge with gloved hands so he can fit his mouth over the spot. It makes Teddy writhe and bite his lips; he can’t stop himself from moaning when Nick starts licking, same quick movements of his tongue as before. He keeps at it until Teddy’s hands fist in his sweater and he is saying, “Please, Nick. Please.”

Nick pulls off Teddy’s pants, presses a quick kiss to Teddy’s stomach, raises up on his knees to tug off his sweater and open his jeans. 

“Overheating,” he says to Teddy.

He looks like a wet dream. Tousled hair, a mischievous smile, all that compact muscle, just touched with sweat that has started beading on his chest. The gloves are a stark contrast to his skin, and the pink tip of his cock is peeking out from the open fly of his jeans: Teddy wants to have him just like this, and says so. The blush that spills out across Nick’s face and down his chest at the words is even more attractive. Teddy tugs on one pant leg to get Nick to lean down and kiss him, then rolls over onto his front. 

Nick gets the lube, pulls Teddy’s hips up, watches as Teddy opens himself, whispering filthy encouragement. His gloved hands brush up Teddy’s thighs, up and down his back, over his arse, pull his cheeks open as Teddy pushes one slick finger inside himself, then two, then three. Nick is careful to avoid the lube where it has spilled down the inside of Teddy’s thigh; his fingers keep catching on Teddy’s skin. Every touch feels both familiar and strange, leather body-warm and not at all like Nick’s hands usually are, and Teddy presses his face into a crook of his arm and growls for Nick to get on with it.

He opens the condom himself, watches over his shoulder as Nick tugs one glove off with his teeth, drags his jeans down his hips just enough for his cock to spring free, rolls the condom on. Nick’s breath catches, and he has to hold himself tightly for a moment with one gloved hand, throwing his head back. Teddy wriggles backwards until his arse is pressed against Nick’s hips, the metal of the open zipper biting into his skin. Nick leans down, trailing kisses over Teddy’s back, the contrast of one gloved and one bare hand a shock to Teddy’s senses.

“Nick,” Teddy hisses, “will you quit teasing?”

“Mmm,” Nick says, “but you love it.”

And then he holds on to Teddy’s hips tightly and pushes in, slow but without pause, then starts fucking Teddy into the bed with short, quick strokes. His gloved hand brushes up Teddy’s chest again, making Teddy arch into him. It’s tight, and wet, their hips slapping together, Nick’s jeans rough against the crease of Teddy’s thighs and Nick’s gloved hand resting just over Teddy’s heart. Teddy can feel himself leaking, until Nick brings his bare hand around and jerks him off in counterpoint to the rhythm he’s set. Then Teddy is shaking apart, clamping down on Nick’s cock mid-thrust, and Nick groans and comes too, panting into Teddy’s shoulder. 

They snuggle loosely, afterwards, Nick having disposed of the condom but still mostly wearing his jeans. His one gloved hand pets lightly up and down Teddy’s flank until Teddy catches his breath and takes Nick’s hand to pull the glove off. It feels like too much work to get a wet towel, so he mops up the worst of the mess with an edge of the sheet and lets Nick roll them away from the wet spot. 

Nick kicks off his jeans, stretching like a large cat, and oh, Teddy loves it when he gets like that, all languid limbs and lazy smiles. They snuggle for real, chest to chest, spent cock to spent cock and mouth to mouth, trading slow kisses. Teddy is half out of it, drifting, when he feels Nick’s hands on his face, thumbs rubbing gently over his eyebrows and down his cheeks. He cracks one eye open, and there Nick is, smiling at him, soft and fond.

“All good?” Nick asks.

“Mmm-hmmm,” Teddy says, pressing his lips to the inside of Nick’s wrist. “You?”

“Yeah,” Nick says. “Yes.” He ruffles Teddy’s hair, kisses the corner of his mouth. “Definitely worth repeating, sometime.”

It is. Teddy throws one leg over Nick’s and presses his nose under Nick’s chin as Nick pulls the blanket over them. They’re going to be so gross when they wake up, later, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

Nick loves showering together, anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick is reading _IGNITION! An Informal History Of Liquid Rocket Propellants_ by John D. Clark, which, if you haven't read it, is both hilarious and incredibly informative.  
>  If you like this installment, [please reblog](http://beili.tumblr.com/post/171729280716/chapter-ten-an-episode-during-the-boys-first) to spread the word.


	11. Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Condom or bare?” Teddy asks, and Nick shudders under him, clinging to Teddy and kissing him harder._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin: barebacking! No plot, just porn. Filthy, filthy porn (with a side of slightly improbable, thanks to Nick's libido).  
> Set after the events of the main story, after the boys had enough time to do all the necessary tests and decide this is something they'd want.

“Come here,” Nick says. “Would you like your turn?”

He’s spread out on the bed like a buffet: naked and smiling, hair ruffled, his lips and nipples pink, his cock half-hard against his hip. He runs one finger up the length and around the glans, slowly, and Teddy swallows. 

“Teddy,” Nick says. The hand not playing with his cock finds Teddy’s, squeezes his fingers gently. “Come up here, let me kiss you.”

What he means, turns out, is to pull Teddy close enough to sit on his chest, then slowly feed Teddy’s cock into Nick’s eager mouth. He sucks around Teddy, humming, pulls off until only the head remains between his lips, rolls Teddy on his tongue, two fingers rubbing at the base of Teddy’s cock. 

“Delicious,” Nick says, lips against the glans, then touches the tip of his tongue to the slit while Teddy shakes. Nick licks his lips, opens wide for him again, sucks Teddy into his mouth until his nose is pressed into Teddy’s pubic hair and his throat is working around the head of Teddy’s cock. He pets up and down Teddy’s thighs, pulls him in by the hips, urging Teddy to fuck his mouth, and Teddy does, slowly, Nick moaning around him. It’s hot, and tight, and wet, and Nick closes his eyes, lips stretched around Teddy, sucking and swallowing, until it’s nearly impossible to hold on. 

“Stop,” Teddy says. “Nick. Please. I want to fuck you.”

Nick lets him go, panting, pre-come and saliva trickling out the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Teddy holds the base of his cock tightly, to give himself a moment to breathe. Then he shuffles down and kisses Nick, licking the taste of himself out of Nick’s mouth. 

“Condom or bare?” Teddy asks, and Nick shudders under him, clinging to Teddy and kissing him harder. 

“Bare,” he whispers. “Leave me wet and full of your come, then fuck it all out of me,” and dammit, if he keeps talking like that, no one’s going to get fucked.

Teddy bites gently at the corner of Nick’s jaw, kisses down his neck, licks at the hollow of his throat. 

“With pleasure,” he says, and Nick smiles at him. 

“Turn over,” Teddy says, pushing himself up to get the lube and give Nick space to move. 

Nick turns, slowly, tucks his knees in. He settles down with the side of his face pressed to the mattress and his bum in the air, and Teddy runs his palms slowly down Nick’s back, then up, pets over his arse, then pulls him open. He leans in and bites lightly at one cheek, the way Nick loves to start with him, and Nick shivers all over, even before Teddy’s slick fingers start circling him, the tip of one notching inside. 

“Give me two,” Nick says, “yes, right away, come on, Teddy - _ah_ ,” and Teddy does as he’s told, dripping lube straight onto Nick’s hole and gently rubbing in and out with two fingers, until Nick relaxes enough to let them slip in. 

He’s hungry for it today, pulling on Teddy’s fingers, biting his lips and egging Teddy on. Teddy tells him not to touch himself. 

“I want to feel you coming from the inside,” he says. Nick groans in frustration and fists his hands in the sheets. Teddy gets a third finger into him, adds more lube, scrapes his nails gently down Nick’s back to feel that delicious shiver again. Then it’s, “Come on, Teddy, dammit, slick it up and put it in me, now, please, _now_ ,” and who is he to deny when Nick asks for it so beautifully?

He feels so damn tight, still, and Teddy fears he wouldn’t even be able to get all the way inside before it’s all over. 

“Relax,” he whispers into Nick’s ear, then licks at the shell, because Nick loves that. “Relax, sweetheart, I want you to take me, nice and easy, yeah, just like that.” 

It’s still tight, and wet, from the lube and Teddy’s own precome, and he can feel himself leaking even as Nick tightens around him, lets go, then again, and again. When Teddy bottoms out, they are both panting; he gets one arm under Nick’s chest, pulls him up until they are pressed against each other. Nick’s hands find his hips, holding on. 

“Go on,” Nick pants, and Teddy starts thrusting. He doesn’t move much - he can’t; it’s deep, and Nick is burning inside, and Teddy only manages a handful of thrusts before he’s coming, kissing Nick’s shoulders and making a tight fist around Nick’s cock, while Nick moans and shakes apart and takes it all. Then he’s coming all over Teddy’s hand, and himself, and Teddy can barely control their slow, inexorable collapse back into the sheets. 

Teddy turns them onto their sides, petting Nick with his clean hand. When he disengages them, Nick moans, and yeah, that’s a trickle of lube and come, leaking over his rim. Teddy can’t resist touching it, spreading it a little; Nick shakes all over, his cock jerking with a final little spurt. 

“Could I make you hard again if I fucked you, right now?” Teddy asks, kissing Nick’s cheek and shoulder. He keeps his touch soothing, running his hand up and down Nick’s flank. 

“I don’t know,” Nick says. “Maybe. I would probably forget my own name,” he tries to turn, and Teddy presses him down with a palm on the small of his back, leans over to kiss him. 

“Stay like this,” Teddy says, against Nick’s lips. “I don’t want it all to leak out before I’m ready to fuck you again,” and Nick turns anyway, pushes Teddy onto his back and climbs on top, sealing their mouths together. Teddy holds him by the hips, tightly, and Nick moans. 

“You’re heavy,” Teddy says, some time later. Nick is dozing, his face pressed into Teddy’s neck. 

“Mmm,” Nick says. “How soon can you go again?”

Sooner than he’s expected, it turns out. Teddy’s cock stirs, and Nick hums to himself and rubs his hips against Teddy’s. 

“You can touch me,” he says, sounding thoroughly fucked-out. “Come on, Teddy, I’m not made of glass.”

He can be very demanding, like this, and Teddy loves that. He pushes at Nick, slides down so he can kiss Nick’s chest, lick and suck at his nipples. Nick pants into the crown of Teddy’s head, making tiny overstimulated sounds, but leans into his mouth anyway. Teddy pets his bum, pulls his cheeks apart, kneads at him, then feels for Nick’s rim. It’s wet, and a little puffy, and feels a bit stretched, and Nick moans even as Teddy rubs him there, gently, not trying to go inside. 

“Teddy,” Nick says, and Teddy has to crane his neck and look up at him. “You better be ready to fuck me. Now.”

“So demanding,” Teddy says fondly, leaning up to kiss Nick on the mouth. “Come on, let me see you first.”

They switch positions again. Teddy sits at the headboard, and Nick gets on his knees and elbows in front of him, presenting himself for Teddy’s inspection. Teddy kneads his cheeks again, pulling Nick open, rubs at his rim with both thumbs, and another wet trickle slides out. 

“Teddy,” Nick hisses, and yeah, _now_ Teddy's getting there. He slicks himself up and pulls Nick backwards so Nick can sit on him, holding his cock steady as Nick slides down and opens around him, and _oh_.

It’s so wet, and warm, and Nick flops backwards against him, like having Teddy inside him has turned his spine liquid. Teddy pushes into him, slowly, petting his hips and his flat stomach, down his arms and over his chest. Nick’s body is limp like a rag doll, and he pants and moans quietly, just taking it from Teddy to the squelch of come and lube as they leak out of him, then are pushed back in again by Teddy’s cock. 

“Yes,” he is saying, “yes, Teddy, like that - harder,” so Teddy holds him up by the hips and gives it to him, harder, more forceful thrusts shaking Nick’s frame.

Nick’s cock bounces with every thrust, still mostly soft at first, filling out as Teddy keeps fucking into him, and Teddy tells him to touch himself. Then, suddenly, it’s all over: Nick bites down on a moan and comes, clamping down on Teddy, and it’s so unexpected that Teddy follows him over the edge. 

Nick is very languid afterwards, properly fucked out and unwilling to move. Teddy gives up and throws an arm around him as they trade lazy kisses, even though every bit of them is gross. 

“Shower?” Nick mumbles, some time later. His hair is a crow’s nest, and he looks lazy and sleepy and happy. It’s perfect.

“A bath,” Teddy says. “Whenever I can get up,” and Nick smiles, his eyes still mostly closed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this installment, please consider [reblogging](http://beili.tumblr.com/post/171871854986/chapter-11-barebacking-pornlet-aka-no-plot-just) to spread the word.


End file.
